


Natural Elimination

by IcamaneHatake



Category: Homestuck, Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Future, Crossover, Death, Disabled Character, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humanstuck, M/M, Multi, Sadstuck, Unrequited Love, all the characters - Freeform, children killing each other, everyone dies, i don't know what else you expected, playlist included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcamaneHatake/pseuds/IcamaneHatake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 42nd Annual Hunger Games. It's an unusual pick this year with lots of young kids, trained killers, and some disabled teenagers. Vriska Serket is in it to win it; Karkat Vantas is in it to survive. Children will fight for their lives, dreams will be shattered, and bonds created and broken. </p><p>But only one Tribute comes out alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Tributes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a coordinated effort between three friends who have way too many ideas about AU Homestuck.
> 
> There's a playlist that goes with this fanfic, give it a listen!
> 
> [Natural Elimination](http://8tracks.com/icamanehatake/natural-elimination?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button) from [IcamaneHatake](http://8tracks.com/icamanehatake?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button) on [8tracks Radio](http://8tracks.com?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button).

“Karkat, come on! We can’t be late!”

“Calm the fuck down, Featherbrain, I’m almost fucking ready.”

Karkat grumbles as he finishes buttoning his only kind-of clean shirt. But it’s no-so-clean now, as he… forgot to wash his hands. Fuck. As usual. He fumbles around the small kitchen-slash-dining room of his house, hoping to find a forgotten bar of soap under some dirty dishes.

“ _Karkat!_ ”

“I’m _coming!_ ” he yells, abandoning his search and sending dirty, rusting pots crashing to the floor. Grumbling about his shit luck, Karkat stomps over and flings his door open. Jade stands there, her glasses polished, wearing her nicest dress, her long black hair combed and pulled back. “Fuck, can’t I get two seconds to put on my shitty ass clothes?”

Jade sighs. “Really? That’s your clean shirt?”

“What?” Karkat is slightly offended. It’s not _that_ bad.

“Coal Muncher,” she mutters, turning away. “Let’s go. The reaping is going to start soon.”

“Just because I work in a fucking _hole_ from sun up to sundown—”

“—And don’t shower,” she interjects.

Karkat is speechless. Then he runs his hand through his gritty hair, pulls it away, and finds it covered in black again.

Motherfucking coal dust.

He slams the cracking wooden door behind him, not bothering to lock it.

-

Vagabond’s hand is overly sweaty. It’s far too hot, the sun burning the back of his neck. Beads of moisture drip down his skin, his body desperate to cool down.

“Are you doing okay?”

He looks up at Aradia, shielding his eyes. Her tan face doesn’t have a drop of sweat on in, her hair tucked neatly up into her wide brimmed hat. Vagabond doesn’t know how she does it, being perfect through all the hard labor and heat and sweat and blood. But he thinks about the question for a moment, and he doesn’t know how he feels yet, other than over-heated, so he shrugs.

“The first reaping is always the worst,” Aradia continued, glancing down at his unsure face. “But I think… as you get older, it gets a little easier to accept.”

He wasn’t sure about that either, but if Aradia said so, then it’s probably true. Older sisters are always right, isn’t that what they say? And since Aradia is the closet thing he has to that, he believes in every word she says.

-

Dave adjusts the suit jacket to fit his frame better. His brother is still a bit taller, a bit lengthier than himself, and he’s had to compensate. But it’s fine. He still looks pretty cool. His light blonde hair is perfectly combed over his forehead and to the side, his glasses are shiny, and the scarlet suit with their family symbol on the lapel only intensifies the red of his eyes.

A single knock on his bedroom door. Time to go. Dave pushes up his sunglasses with two fingers, straightens the jacket once more, and exits his spacious room. He and his Bro don’t need to say anything as they walk through the grey and tan brick city towards the reaping space. Dave doesn’t know which he would prefer – not getting picked and never living up to Bro’s legend, the Strider legend, or going in and not coming out again. Each he finds to be a terrible possibility.

No, he can’t think like that.

He is going to win the Forty-Second Hunger Games.

-

Roxy is pretty sure District One is picking their tributes right now.

Then again, the sky is turning purple and everything is slowly revolving on the spot, so how should she know what’s going on? The whispering around her is turning into a washing sound; the people shifting are all blending together, making the sea of people even more like the ocean and less like humans. This courtyard is cramped and sweaty and stinking, the people around her smelling more like the animals that they tend to than themselves.

Another reaping.

Another ripping of family.

Another rampage of the emotions of humans.

She just wants this to be over so she can go back to her house and finish the second bottle of wine.

-

It’s finally time. District One always takes so long to pick their tributes.

But now it’s time for Eridan to shine.

He’s been waiting for years. Training, pushing himself, perfecting his killing art. And every year, he had failed to been chosen. But this year, he had a plan.

“Our lucky female Tribute will be… Winda Quinnell!”

There’s a roar of applause and Quinnell takes the stage. Tall, lean, beautiful, perfect facial structure, and long white blonde hair. Her face is blank, her eyes lazily watching the grand crowd before her in the courtyard of off-white stone. Eridan smirks while he claps. Quinnell will be a great representative for District Two. Next to himself, of course.

“And our male tribute—”

“I WOLUNTEER!”

Everyone in the crowd turns to look at Eridan, and he swells with excitement. Now is the moment. He’s been preparing this all morning.

“I, Eridan Ampora, pride of District Two, wolunteer as Tribute!”

The applause starts small, but grows steadily as Eridan makes his way to the front, a grin on his face, not even caring that his prized purple cape is getting trod on a little by the crowd as they part for him.

Now was the time. The time for Eridan Ampora to take the stage, the fully embrace the limelight.

-

Rose has never found a reaping so amusing before. Sure, it’s painful and boring, standing around and watching other reapings, but this year the higher careers are especial clowns. The girl from One actually looks timid. The male in Two just completely made an imbecile out of himself. Even District Three looked like a pair of fools this year.

“Rose Lalonde.”

Rose opens her eyes. People around her whisper behind their hands as she takes measured steps to the front. It doesn’t bother her. A second generation Tribute is always exciting, and she doesn’t blame them – it _is_ rather exciting.

As she takes the stage, she catches her mom nodding at her out of the corner of her eye. She knows immediately what it means.

_Give them a good show._

-

_‘Come on, come on!’_

“The female tribute for District Five…”

_‘Pick me, pick me!’_

“Vriska Serket!”

“Yes!”

Vriska can’t help herself from calling out – she had been so let down when she wasn’t picked last year, her first reaping year. The girl last year didn’t even make it past day two. Vriska was going to show everyone this year what she could do, what she was actually capable of. She stands on the stage, grinning into the clouds above the crowd.

“The male tribute for District Five… Dave Strider!”

Vriska frowns when the crowd cheers harder for him than they had for her. Didn’t they realize she would win? Sure, Strider was pretty cool, but he has _nothing_ on her. Vriska is like, on a different level than him. A level way higher than him.

“Serket,” Dave greets her, nodding once.

“Strider,” she replies, pushing her glasses up her nose as she smirks.

They really don’t need to say anything else.

They both know they’re going for blood.

-

The anticipation is practically killing Roxy. She’s already been picked, she’s stumbled her ass up here, so what are they waiting for? Pick the damn boy already, this sun is giving her a huge, stupid migraine.

Finally, the dumb broad picking names finds a slip of paper she deems acceptable.

“Tavros Nitram!”

_‘Oh no. Of course. Of-fucking-course.’_

The crowd goes completely silent, awkwardly shuffling around. Roxy knows they are thinking the exact same thing as her.

Then there’s a rhythm – shuffletap, shuffletap. The crowd parts and Roxy can make out the kid who is slowly approaching the stage. His feet – or really, just the shoes – drag behind his canes as he walks himself through the dirt. It’s not until he mounts the stage that Roxy can see he’s completely and absolutely terrified.

_‘And he has a right to be, poor kid,’_ Roxy thinks. _‘If I had fake legs, I certainly would be.’_

-

“It’s going to be alright.”

Aradia is reassuring Vagabond as they are escorted into the closest thing District Eleven has to a justice building. Aradia’s hand clasps his tight, not allowing them to be separated again.

She can’t imagine what he must have felt when his name was called, or even when her name had been called and she left him alone in the crowd.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll protect you.”

A pair of orphans. A pair of friends.

A family.

Aradia is not going to let the Capital rip them apart.

-

“Shitsponge.”

Jade nudges Karkat in the ribs, but he knows she is thinking something along the same lines.

And how can they not. The Capitol has somehow managed to pick a good number of younger kids this year – _crippled_ kids.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is finally time to choose the lucky young man and woman who will represent District Twelve in the Forty-Second Hunger Games!” This guy is far too chipper for this silent crowd. “Ladies first!”

Karkat feels Jade brushes against him briefly as the slip of paper is chosen. Karkat’s stomach knots with nerves. _‘Please don’t be us, please don’t—’_

“Jade Harley!”

“Well, fuck me sideways.” Karkat’s voice is hollow. This is too close to home. He and Jade may not be particularly _close_ , but… well, she’s the closest thing to a friend he’s ever had.

Jade holds her head high as she walks to the stage, trying to keep her game face on. She stands there and looks over the grim crowd, her eyes dark and cold. The sparse applause dies almost immediately.

“Now for our young man.”

Karkat doesn’t register that his name is called at first. He just stands there, numb, until he hears the man on stage practically screaming.

“Karkat Vantas!”

There’s a sharp jab in his back by someone’s elbow. He stumbles forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He flexes his hands as he works through the crowd, trying to get blood to rush to them again. His everything is numb as he climbs the stairs at an agonizingly slow pace. The moment his leading foot touches the surface of the stage, he is yanked to Jade’s side.

“Well, there you have it! The lucky young Tributes for District Twelve!” The man looks around, expecting applause. When he doesn’t get it, he presses on. “Well, Karkat and Jade, you will represent your District well, and may the odds be ever in your favor!”


	2. Part One - The Capitol

No one comes to say goodbye to Karkat. 

He stands alone in one of the few rooms in the justice building, staring at the door, hoping for someone, _someone_ to walk in to send him off, give him a hug maybe, tell him that they love him.

But he has no one. 

Karkat lives alone. He works in a coalmine, eating stale bread and dust for breakfast and his insides for dinner. His one-room house will probably be given over to another family, another person in need of shelter, and that’s okay. 

Karkat knows he is going to die. 

The door opens suddenly and Karkat jumps, scattering a thin dusting of coal onto the rug he’s standing on. His shirt is beyond ruined – it’s going to take a damn good scrubbing to get it to even the light shade of gray it was when he put it on his morning. Two Peacekeepers enter, not ones from District Twelve, but from the Capitol. These guys are hulking, looming over Karkat’s tiny frame, and they’re rough when they grab him without a word or even a grunt and lead him from the room. Karkat bites the inside of his cheek with sharp teeth, tasting hatred and fear. He despises them, the Capitol and their infatuation with luxury and money, ignorant to the core of their beings, obsessed with the murder and exploitation of the outer territories. The Peacekeepers shove him into the train waiting for him, and Karkat accidentally bites too hard. Blood trickling into his mouth distracts him from seeing the people in front of himself. 

Jade and the man from earlier are there, sitting on the plush seats that jut out from the sleek metal wall of the train. Jade looks determined, her jaw set and her hair pulled back from her face. She’s cleaned her glasses again and tried to make the best out of the clothes she’s wearing, smoothing the skirt out with her fingertips and tucking her feet under herself neatly. 

Karkat wonders fleetingly if anyone said their farewells to Jade. 

“Karkat! Good, we can finally get going.” The man is on his feet, offering his hand to Karkat. “Glad you meet you. I’m Kankri.” 

Kankri is scarcely taller than Karkat, which is an accomplishment of its own sort. His jet black hair is wild, his eyes are as vivid a red as his suit, and he smells of cinnamon. Karkat notices faint red tattoos on his forehead and temples, and he rolls his eyes. Fuck these Capitol types. Even their accent is weird. 

“Whatever. Why the hell are you here, shit sniffer?” Karkat growls, his cheek aching. Kankri is taken aback, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open.

“E-excuse me?”

“What, are your ears stuffed? I asked why you were here.” Karkat plants his feet and crosses his arms, refusing to move from the spot as the train jolts up to speed, making Kankri totter. 

“I don’t think that’s what he’s upset about,” Jade mutters.

“Y-young _man!_ We need to teach you some _manners_ before we get to the Capitol!” Kankri finally stutters. “You must _not_ talk to anyone like that again! Did you know that in the Thirty-Seventh Hunger Games—“

“ _Yawn._ Look at all the fucks I give. How about you just go stuff your face with some Capitol food and leave Jade and I to reminisce before we’re slaughtered? How does that sound, Jade?” 

“I’m not a part of this, Karkat,” she snaps back. “Keep me out of your problems.”

Still flustered, Kankri leaves, exiting into another car. When they’re alone, Karkat sighs and relaxes. He slumps down on a blue-cushioned seat across from Jade, coal dust dirtying the upholstery. They’re silent for a few minutes, feeling the hum of the train below them as they hurtle through the countryside. 

“You shouldn’t have acted like that,” Jade finally says, pushing her glasses up her nose. “It’s not his fault. Not really.”

“Yeah? His picked our names, Jade. I think that makes him pretty fucking guilty.”

“Oh, shut _up_ already. It’s the Capitol’s fault, President English’s, actually.” 

“He’s part of the Capitol. Did you smell him? It’s—”

“Yes, whatever, I’m fully aware of your fuck-the-system attitude. And to be fair, I don’t like it either. But don’t take it out on him. He’s trying to help us.” 

“How? Is he going to show us the ropes? Get us out of the Games? Kidnap us or something?” 

“No. He’s supposed to help us get through the Capitol, and with any luck, maybe we’ll get some sponsors.” 

Karkat shut up for a few minutes, thinking. Jade was right. Jade was _always_ right. 

“Whatever. I just want to know how we are supposed to win this.”

Jade sighs, looking out the window to the blurred scenery. “Karkat… I wish I knew.”

-

Dave isn’t even marginally surprised when his brother emerges from the compartment door. The most recent winner always goes to the Capitol with the newest Tributes for training in some sort of twisted attempt to help children kill each other. Vriska, however, is surprised that it’s Bro, and she even looks a little confused.

“But… what? What are you doing here?”

“He’s the most recent winner from our district,” Dave says, bored. He’s watching Vriska and Bro through their reflections in the window of the train. They don’t know he’s observing them, and it’s funny to see their faces, especially Vriska.

“I’ve been given the honor of teaching you two everything I know so maybe you can show up the Careers.” 

Honor.

It’s all Dave wants. He wants to show his brother he’s just as strong as him, as clever, as skilled: a survivor. Dave desperately desires that Strider family honor. He comes from a long line of Game winners. He can’t break the chain now. 

“So when are we going to get to work? What are you going to teach us?” Vriska’s eyes are shining with eagerness. 

“Whoa there Serket, settle down. We’re not going to even think about Training until after we get there.”

Vriska sighs. “That’s so lame. I want to get started _now_ so I have an advantage.”

“Haven’t you been training for the past two years?” Dave’s voice is full of snark as he turns around to look at them through his sunglasses. Bro is wearing his too, the silly triangle shaped ones that he’s famous for, but Dave thinks his own glasses are cooler and much more ironic. Pretty soon, everyone’s going to be wearing real sunglasses and not those ridiculous pointy things. 

“Point?” Vriska snarls back. “I’m sorry Dave, but I thought you wanted to win this more than anything.”

“Who said that? I sure as hell didn’t.” Dave reaches for a glass of apple juice on the table. “And why do you care so much? You hardly stand a chance. You’re like the tiniest girl I’ve ever met, and you think you can go up against six foot Careers? Please.”

Like an animal, Vriska jumps the table and tackles Dave in his seat, toppling the chair over and shattering glass. Aranea, their Capitol representative, screams and covers her face as Dave’s hands shoot up to hold Vriska off him. Her nails on one hand are digging into his neck, metal finger tips on the other, and Dave is a little surprised at how heavy she is. She doesn’t look it, but Vriska probably has about as much muscle as he does. 

“You think I can’t win, Strider? Do you think it’s funny or something?” Vriska spits in his face. They’re both shaking as they try to assert dominance over the other. 

“Would you get off me? This is stupid.” 

“How about you make me?”

“Enough.” 

Bro scoops Vriska up with one arm under her stomach and lifts her off Dave without much effort. Dave takes a few steady breaths to regulate himself again, and then he stands back up, kicking a broken glass aside. 

“Stop fighting. If you both keep acting like this, you’re not going to get sponsors and sure as hell will make lots of enemies. You want to live past the first few hours, don’t you?”

Vriska inhales deeply, her nostrils flaring, but doesn’t say anything. Dave just sticks his hands in his pockets, playing it cool like Vriska hadn’t just tried to strangle him.

“Whatever you say, Bro.”

-

Vagabond is completely mesmerized by the countryside flashing by. 

Aradia smiles as she watches him, with his nose pressed against the window and his eyes wide. 

“It’s really pretty out here, isn’t it?” she says gently. He turns to her, and she can see how bright his eyes are. He’s forgotten, for the moment, that they are on the way to the Capitol, on their way to their dooms. So she keeps a smile on her face too, maybe in hopes of tricking him into believing that everything will be alright, if just for a little while longer. 

Vagabond nods before looking back out the window. There are smudges on the glass from his nose and fingers. Damara isn’t going to be too pleased about that, but what does it matter? The Capitol can pay to clean their windows. 

Aradia allows herself to gaze out the windows as well. Neither of them had ever seen beyond their district, or even knew what the Capitol looks like. Aradia is surprised that she feels a little nervous and possibly giddy at the thought of finally being there. She used to dream about it as a child, the radiant lights, buzzing nightlife, sleeping in, as much food as you wanted, and no worries in the world. She used to think she would give anything for it. But the years of watching the Games, of Peacekeepers killing workers, and of meeting Vagabond, adopting him in a way… everything changed. Aradia had to grow up too fast, too soon, and the dreams of living a life without problems disappeared. 

“We’re approaching the Capitol.” 

Damara was back, looking as perfect and composed as ever. A true Capitol citizen. 

“Thanks,” Aradia says, nodding her head in respect, and continues watching Vagabond. He’s quaking in anticipation, his head craning to see the approaching tunnel. She’s not sure if he’s scared or not, and reaches out to stroke his head. “You ready for this?”

He nods slowly, still watching the blackness of the tunnel fast approaching. It’s black maw is about to swallow them up and spit them back out into the glitter and glam of the rest of their lives. 

“Okay. If you get scared, I’m right here with you.” 

Vagabond turns towards her and smiles, his eyes still curious but tainted with sadness. Aradia almost can’t bear the thought of him entering the arena, of facing death, whether it’s their own or someone else’s. She doesn’t want him to see her die, and she doesn’t want to watch him die. 

As they enter the tunnel, the lights inside the train take a few seconds to turn on, and it leaves them in total darkness. 

-

_‘My people are wwaiting.’_

Eridan can’t keep still. He paces the car, plays with knick-knacks, munches on food, and chugs drinks. Winda is sitting motionless at the head of the table, spine straight and eyes unblinking. Eridan finds it a little weird, but he’s too caught up in his own thoughts to care. The soft blue light inside the train is turning the purple streak in his hair weird colors, and he’s far too concerned with making an entrance in the Capitol. Should he wave? No, that was too… boring. Maybe just strike a pose, an impressive one? Give people a taste of his mystery and power. Or may—

Eridan throws up his arm to shield himself from the light that strikes his eyes. As the train slows down, he can hear the roar of the crowd, and he blinks furiously, trying to get his eyes to adjust. 

_‘No! This can’t be howw they see me the first time!’_

Franticly, Eridan straightens out his suit, re-waves his hair into the perfect style, and smiles. He can see faces now, people in the Capitol applauding and screaming for him. Winda doesn’t budge from her chair, staying stony in the face of the spotlight. 

Finally, they were here. 

_‘It’s my turn to shine noww.’_

-

Tavros is relieved when the train finally starts slowing down. He’s feeling nauseous just from _looking_ at Roxy. She, on the other hand, looks perfectly content. She’s been babbling and drinking the whole trip, pouring herself glass after glass of wine. The smell of it has long since pierced his senses, making his stomach turn unpleasantly. He doesn’t know how she does it. 

“Fiiiiiiiiinally,” Roxy says, trying to stand and falling again on the train seat. “Hehe, oops. Tavros, can ya maybe give a gurl a hand here?” 

Tavros sets his canes against the floor and pushes himself up to standing, wobbling a little on his cheap prosthetics. He has grown since he got them three years ago, though they even more uncomfortable than they were at the time he was fitted. “Uh, R-Roxy, I don’t want to sound mean, but I-I don’t know if I can carry both of us.”

She looks at him with big blue eyes going in and out of focus, and Tavros wonders just how much she can comprehend. “Burry coth org us? No, no, sorry, _carry_ both of us. Yeah? You gonna do that?”

“I—uhhhh—I—”

“Alright guys, let’s get going!” 

Rufioh walks into their car, his red Mohawk gelled skywards and his enthusiasm lighting up the room. It hasn’t been that long, but Tavros is already used to the piercings in his ears and the layers upon layers of clothing he wears in the heat in the name of fashion. And as the door opens to outside and the roar of the crowd awaiting them hits his ears, Tavros is thankful Rufioh is there with them. 

“Fudge that,” Roxie slurs. “I’m not goin’ out there.”

“It’s alright Roxy, I’m here with you guys,” Rufioh reassures her, throwing her arm over his shoulders and hoisting her up. She practically dangles there next to him, but it doesn’t look like he minds. “Come on, we’ve got some people you need to meet. They’re going to make you look and feel super great.”

“What e’er.”

Tavros quietly follows them out of the train, careful not to get his canes stuck in any gaps. He tries to flip his shaggy hair out of his face so he can get a good first look at the Capitol. 

Over the heads of the exuberant crowd, Tavros sees towering buildings, glittering with colorful lights and windows catching the sun. The sleek metal lines just go up and up, piercing the sky with their threatening hands, trying to bring the faded blue down to their level. Tavros cranes his neck, trying to see the ends of the buildings. Why would anyone need a structure that tall? What was its purpose? 

“Come on Tavros, keep moving.” 

Rufioh’s voice brings him back to earth, and Tavros shuffles on after their representative and the town drunk. He keeps his eyes on the ground, careful that he doesn’t stumble too much and keeps up at the same time. 

Tavros’s senses are completely overwhelmed by the time they get into a low metal facility, and he’s only been in the Capitol for twenty minutes. They’re greeted by a tall, slim woman surrounded by a gaggle of assistants who are all looking at them with too-eager eyes. 

The woman is bald and skeletal, her cheekbones easily her most pronounced feature. Her pale skin has an odd tint to it, a minty green, and tattoos pattern her skull in a luminescent white. Her suit is sharp and pointed and her pants poof out around her hips and it just furthers her bony structure. She smiles at them, showing off pointed teeth, but her voice is sweet when she greets them.

“Hello! You must be Roxy and Tavros!” Her expression doesn’t waver when she actually looks at them, crippled Tavros and intoxicated Roxy. “I’m Caliope, your designer. You two are going to look completely fabulous when I’m through with you!” 

She takes Roxy from Rufioh and supports her fully. Roxy is trying her hardest to stand on her own, but her legs are still wobbly and her head lolls back and forth. 

“Thank you, Rufioh. You and Summoner can see them before the presentation,” Caliope says before turning to her assistants. “Alright team, let’s get to work!” 

Tavros is a little concerned at first, what with four different people tugging him this way and that, navigating him over to a sleek metal table. It looks like a medical table, and he tenses up. Last time he was on one of these, he didn’t have legs. 

“Don’t worry, Tavros,” one of the assistants says, the one with ridiculously yellow hair and long false eyelashes. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’ve got to fix you up though, but when we’re through, no one will even know you have fake legs!” 

“A-alright,” Tavros stutters, and he allows them to sweep him onto the table. While others are bringing up trays of tools and machinery, the yellow-haired woman pulls out a needle. 

“We’re going to put you under, but only for a little. It won’t hurt at all.”

Before Tavros can even panic, there’s a slight pricking in the crook of his elbow and his mind drifts away from him, his eyelids too heavy to keep open.

-

“STOP IT!” 

“Karkat, you need to calm down! This is their job!” 

Kankri is standing off to the side, trying to sooth the angry teen, but Karkat is having none of it.

“NO! Stop trying to wash my fucking hair, everyone is going to see—AHH!” 

Karkat’s scream is drowned out by the bucket of water that is poured over his still-clothed form. It runs off black, staining the table and his skin, the gray fabric clinging to his lean frame. He sputters, trying to get his breath back so he can continue fighting the man who is trying to yank his tattered pants off. 

“You Capitol jackasses! Now I’m fucking _freezing—_ ”

“Karkat, if you would just let the dressers do their job, they wouldn’t have needed to pour water on you—”

“—and I don’t want anyone to see my hair—”

“—so calm down!” 

Another bucket is dumped unceremoniously over his head, pulling more coal with it. Karkat is visibly shaking now, and this time, there are a few spots of muted orange peaking out from under his filthy mop of hair. 

“If you shut up, you’ll be warm,” the woman who dumped water on him says. 

Karkat sighs and lets himself go limp. The team quickly undresses him and covers him with a towel for his own dignity before they begin to tackle his hair. Karkat grumbles and growls, the whole time squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe they’ll dye his hair black. Maybe they’ll give him that one fucking courtesy. 

It takes four different scrub downs of his hair to get it to it’s natural color, and two of his skin to get all the filth off. When they’re finished washing him, they pamper and groom him to perfection, and Karkat is betting he’s not going to recognize himself when he gets a glimpse in the mirror. He hasn’t taken a bath in months, and he can’t ever recall trimming his fingernails. He feels rubbed and raw by the time they hand him over to his stylist, and a bit violated to top it off. As he waits, he turns and catches a look at himself in the reflective metal surface of a cabinet. 

A child of fifteen starts back at him, gray eyes sunken, pale skin freckled, and bright orange hair falling softly across his forehead. 

Karkat wouldn’t have recognized himself if he hadn’t been sure it was a reflection. 

-

_‘These Capitol types are rather fussy.’_

Rose is very amused by having a team of stylists fret over the length of her nails, how her hair flips out naturally, and the right color of lipstick to match her purple eyes. She thinks it’s funny how they make her eyebrows precise, how they file her toenails, how they magic tiny scars on her shins out of existence. 

None of this is going on matter once she enters the arena. 

Equius is somewhere nearby, getting the same sort of treatment as she is, and she wonders how he’s taking it. He’s been pretty calm and collected the whole time, obedient to Horrus, their representative, and Rose’s mother, their trainer. He hasn’t argued with anything they’ve said, merely nodding to their wishes. Rose doesn’t find this too strange for him, as she’s known him her whole life, but for a Tribute in general. They usually put up some sort of fight; at least, that’s what her mom has told her. 

Not everyone goes to their death quietly. 

“Alright, Miss Lalonde, we’re ready to get you fitted for your presentation outfit.” 

“Thank you.”

Rose swings her legs off the table and follows them to a different room to meet her designer. There was no point in being rude to these people, they were just doing their job, and it was admittedly a fun one. 

“Hello, Rose.”

The man standing before her is small and lean, with skin and hair that were equally dark, making his bright white teeth pop even more. He has yellow eyes with slit-like pupils, and his general posture made him seem like some sort of predatory cat, greeting its prey. 

“My name is Jasper. May I say, you look even more stunning than when I saw you during the Reaping.”

“Thank you.” Rose’s responses were starting to get a little robotic. She sensed they would only continue to do so. She plays with the thin fabric of her white silk robe, waiting for him to say something interesting. 

“Well, first, I’m going to have Reema bleach your hair. You’re going to need to be rather luminescent for the presentation. I hope this is alright with you?”

“Can I ask what you have planned?” 

He smiles, showing off two very sharp canines. “Oh my dear, you won’t be disappointed. Now, hurry. We are short on time, and I need to start fitting your companion.”

Rose stays with Risa while Jasper leaves with another assistant, and her curiosity is peaked. Maybe this will be a little fun after all. It’s good to have some fun before you fight to death with your peers, right?

-

“Ugh, jegus, what are you doing to my hair?” 

Vriska had cut her hair just for this. And now they were _ruining_ it. 

“Just putting some extensions in, my dear! You’re going to look so lovely with long hair!” 

“I cut it for a reason! What do you think I am, stupid? Long hair is going to just be another weapon my enemies can use against me.” Vriska had this shit planned and locked down _tight._

The stylist ignored her and continued clipping in hairpieces per her instructions. Vriska tried not to squirm, but made sure to make her displeasures known. 

“Is this crap going to stay in? Because I want it out before I’m in the arena.”

“I don’t know, that will be up to Hellas.” 

Which was code for, _‘Fuck you, this is staying in and you will be pretty.’_

When Vriska’s hair is finally done, the extensions of purple, yellow and blue and jutting out from under the choppy ends of her black hair. It feels so stupid. She needs to look like a fierce competitor, not some thirteen-year-old-sized doll. 

“Prefect. We’ve got to get you into the suit now so Hellas can wire it up.”

Vriska knows just exactly how contorted her face is when the suit is held up to her, and she gags. It’s this ridiculous tight-looking thing with what look like ball spikes coming out of the shoulders. What the hell was it _supposed_ to be?

“You know, it’s like, electricity!” 

Hellas arrives, and he looks at the suit with complete pride. His features are exaggerated on his face like some sort of cartoon, and Vriska can’t decide what is more ridiculous, his face or his high-pitched voice. 

“The balls are extremely sensitive to magnetic fields and electricity and such, so they make arcs of awesome in midair. You guys are gonna look _sweet._ ”

“Uh, okay. Whatever.” Vriska rolls her eyes. This guy is nuts. 

Dave arrives shortly after Vriska has been squeezed into the tight material, and he doesn’t look amused at all. 

They’ve taken his glasses. 

Dave’s eyes are a bright red, and Vriska laughs out loud. This is what he’s been hiding? 

“Oh shit, Dave’s on fire,” she jeers and she hold out her arms so Hellas can start wiring them up. “Better run and hide!” 

“At least I look good in this suit,” Dave retorts, refusing to look at her. He’s already been hooked up to the system and has his start button in his hand. “You just look like a clown.”

“Hey! Don’t insult the art, you troll,” Hellas snaps, finishing up fiddling with Vriska’s suit. “Come on, let’s get going. The ceremony is going to start soon.”

-

Eridan looks around at all the tributes in the tunnel with disgust. They all look so _stupid._ Alright, not all of them. _Most_ of them. 

He and Winda are waiting patiently in their white chariot for the presentation ceremony to start. Duelscar and Cronus have already left them, gone off to watch from a good vantage point. The two of them look stunning in elaborate armor made of thin carvings of marble, totally impractical and heavy, but they look like gods, especially among these mortals. Winda is standing tall and silent, her black sword resting perfectly under the palms of her hands. She looks like a chess piece, a queen waiting to command her pawns. 

Eridan is actually impressed by her. 

Looking around, someone else catches his eye. The girl ahead of them in line is tall and lovely, long black hair flowing down her back in waves, wearing an admittedly ridiculous getup, but looking so damn fine in it anyways. Her hat is like some sort of jellyfish, and a mish-mash of textures create a rainbow on her body that glitters in the fluorescent light. Eridan feels his heart twisting inside of him and his hands start to shake. Her image hits him like a tidal wave, and he is being swept helplessly underneath. 

Eridan is so distracted that he barely hears any of the announcements made or the crowd cheering just outside of the tunnel. He only notices the ceremony has started when her carriage of enormous seashells is pulled away from him, and his blood boils with anger. Why were they taking her away from him? He can’t watch her if she’s—

“And here they come! It’s Feferi Pixies and Dirk Strider of District One first, and they look absolutely stunning! A rainbow of color is presented here, all in the way of their costal lifestyle.” 

Eridan sees that the camera is zooming in on her face and leans forward, trying to get as close to the screen as he can before they are pulled away. Her light purple eyes perfectly compliment her dress, and her smile is just so radiant. Eridan can’t look away, and even cranes his neck as he is swept away toward the crowd. 

The wall of sound doesn’t hit him with nearly as much force as the sight of Feferi had, but it’s pretty loud. He straightens up and puffs out his chest, putting on his confident smirk. He had to look good – Feferi was watching. 

“Eridan Ampora and Winda Quinnell of District Two, everyone! And don’t they look intimidating!” 

Eridan keeps his eyes on the screens lining the track the whole way down, hoping it will cut back to Feferi. The two scrawny kids from District Five look downright idiotic with their little balls of light protruding from their shoulders. The girl from Ten is having a hard time standing straight, and the child next to her looks terrified. In fact, the only other team besides his own and Feferi’s that looks stunning is Seven. The two Tributes are both tall and cool, wearing elaborate drapes of fabric off their shoulders and waists, waving at the audience with smooth smiles. Eridan makes a point to remember their names: Kanaya Maryam and Abner Renegade Duncan. 

They were going to be such a pleasure to do battle with in the field. 

-

Vagabond is overcome by a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness while he waits with Aradia in their carriage. 

Everything around him is so foreign and new and colorful that he doesn’t know where to look first. The Tributes for District One are very bright, the boy dressed like a golden-orange koi and the girl in some sort of jellyfish mixture that glowed rainbow. District Two looks terrifying in their armor and stoic faces, and Vagabond hopes he never has to come across them. Four is an odd mixture of entertaining and scary, with the male who is a giant compared to even his female counterpart, but their suits lit up with blue and purple lines. They’ve just started into the track, and the girl is sitting on the boys’ arm like it’s nothing, waving just like a princess. Five has by far the most exciting costumes, with little bolts of lavender lightning jumping between the balls at the ends of spikes on their shoulders. District Eight also catches his attention because both the Tributes are very young, just like him. 

“And here from District Eight, home of Transportation here in Panem, is Nepeta Leijon and John Egbert!” 

Nepeta and John. 

Vagabond hopes they can be friends. 

The other two boys to follow are also very young, but Sollux looks downright mean and grumpy and Tavros looks like he might pass out. His otherwise tan face is very, very pale, his eyes dart everywhere, as if looking for an escape, and his hands grip the edge of the chariot tightly. 

“Alright, we’re next,” Aradia says quietly, taking his quivering hand. Vagabond hadn’t even realized he was this visibly nervous. 

“Now, from District Eleven, we have Aradia Megido and William Vagabond!” 

Hearing his named so loudly and with so much grandeur made Vagabond swell up just the tiniest amount with pride. He is here in the Capitol, and he is not going to die. Aradia had promised they were going to live, and Aradia never breaks her promises. The carriage is jolted forward and into the track, only to be greeted by the cheers of adoring Capitol citizens. Vagabond jumps a little, and Aradia’s hand on his is tighter on his. She raises her hand and waves, and Vagabond follows suit, if a little clumsier. She is his rock that he is tethered to in this shifting storm of flashing lights and thousands of hands waving back at them. Vagabond sways to the rhythm of the crowd, gently rocking side to side as he and Aradia greet the people with gentle smiles and waves. He catches a glimpse of himself on the screen, and he finds he looks so small in comparison to the other Tributes. Aradia towers over him, her elaborate hairstyle only seeming to accentuate his own lack of hair. He runs his free hand over his buzz cut before going back to waving. He wants to shrink away now, go back home. At least at home, he felt like he was a bigger part of something.

At the end of the ride, they lower their arms and stand side by side, hand in hand, waiting for President English to make his address. 

-

Karkat has had just about enough of people talking and yammering their voice boxes today. 

President English yelled at them about the Games and their _super fucking important place in society._ Kankri wouldn’t (doesn’t) shut up about manners. Their designer wouldn’t quit bitching about how _lovely and perfect your orange hair is._

“Now, I think we all need to have a little talk about tomorrow.”

_‘Oh, great. Here we fucking go again.’_

Karkat, Jade and Beck are all sitting on couches in the penthouse apartment they’re staying in, and Kankri is standing before them, changed into a red and black silk robe and slipper set. Karkat slumps further into his seat, his arms crossed across his chest. 

“Tomorrow, you are beginning your two week training program. Now, I want you both to approach this with the utmost determination and openness to learn. These two weeks will be pivotal in your success in the arena. You need to make sure you learn all of the skills that are available to you, especially the ones who feel strongest about. Don’t ignore the survival skills, because that’s how you’re going to win this. 

“I also am a strong believer in watching footage of the previous Games. For instance, in the Thirty-Ninth Hunger Games, you can learn quite a lot about using a trident from Meenah Pixies, who was a very ruthless Victor. Or for example, the Thirty-Third, in which Rita Lalonde outfoxed her competition and won without a drop of blood on her hands. Many things are to be learned from the past, and you should study them diligently. I have access to all the footage of every Game ever played when you want to watch it. 

“Alright, I need to warn you now, what I’m about to say is a bit… well, graphic. It includes violence and gore, so just tell me if you feel uncomfortable. So… as you know, there will be blood. You may have to kill people, or watch people get killed. Just know that you need to defend yourself and the honor of your District at all costs. You are in it to win it, and you can’t let your emotions get in the way. If you do need to release emotions, that’s okay, too. It’s okay to cry. Some sponsors love when Tributes feel remorse. It’s not bad. But crying while slicing someone’s throat open won’t win you any points with a lot of Capitol people, and I want you to get Sponsors. That is part of my job. 

“Okay, we’re past that. So, Sponsors. We need to make you two look very desirable. Karkat, your looks will be fine, but we need to work on how you approach people. Be more… personable. Address people how you would like to be addressed. I think if we just work on your presentation of yourself, everything else about you will do the talking. And Jade, I think you have some secret skills hidden in that brain of yours. Everyone loves an underdog, and you should run with that. You don’t look too scary, but I think once the people see just how fierce you can be, you will be a favorite. 

“And finally, I would just like to say thank you. You Tributes are what keeps the spirit of Panem alive, and we couldn’t do it without you. Your sacrifices, victories and tragedies—”

“FUCK! I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE OF THIS!”

Jade and Kankri scream as Karkat reaches down and flips the coffee table over between the couch and Kankri. 

“QUIT WITH YOUR FUCKING CAPITOL BULLSHIT! I’M SO FUCKING _DONE_ WITH THIS PLACE. YOU’RE PLAYING WITH YOUR FOOD LIKE A DEMENTED CHILD, CAN WE JUST CUT THE CRAP AND GET IT OVER WITH?”

“Karkat.”

Beck’s deep voice is sharp and not at all the easy-going man that Karkat and Jade grew up knowing. He’s glaring at Karkat from his place on the couch, dark eyes intimidating the ginger so much he sits down again. 

“This is what Kankri’s talking about. Stop acting like a child and start getting yourself into the mindset of a killer. You’re all ready to go and die like a martyr that you haven’t even considered that you have just as much chance as anyone at winning.” 

The room is quiet except for Kankri and Karkat both trying to get their breathing under control. Finally, Kankri straightens up the coffee table with a new sense of strictness. 

“Fine. If that’s how you really feel, Karkat, then I won’t help anymore. I’ll see you after your interview. Good night.”

Kankri makes for the front door and closes it a little too hard behind him. 

Karkat sits in shocked silence for a few moments. Had… had that really just happened? Was that even _allowed?_

“Way to fucking go, Coal Muncher.”


	3. Part Two - Test Run

“Rise and shine, bro. We’ve got training to get started.”

Dave grumbles and rolls out of his cushy bed to the sound of Bro’s voice. 

He doesn’t want to go to training. This is pointless. He already knows everything he needs to. 

“Let’s go, sleepy man.” Dave feels something land on the bed sheets, and feels around for the object. 

His sunglasses. 

“Give me a minute to get dressed.”

“Only one.”

Bro shuts the door and Dave puts on the glasses before turning on the lights. His training uniform had already been laid out for him by an Avox, so it doesn’t take much effort to get changed and out the door. Vriska and Bro are waiting for him at the table, their plates already dirty from finishing breakfast. How long had they been awake?

“Finally. Strider-sensei even let you sleep in.”

“Strider-sensei?” Dave is not amused, especially not when Vriska gives him a look of feigned innocence. 

“What? That’s what he asked me to call him.”

“It’s fitting for me,” Bro adds casually, taking a sip from his coffee cup. 

“I—whatever. I don’t care.” Dave sits down and bites into a piece of toast with some sort of exotic Capitol jam on it. It’s too early in the morning to deal with their shit. “So, you gonna have any words of wisdom for us?”

“Yes, actually.” Bro tilts back in his chair. “Don’t be a show-off. That’s rule number one. You don’t want to give away any talents right away, otherwise the Careers are going to know exactly who they want to eliminate first. Remember, they see this as an actual game, where they’re the predator and everyone else is pray. Rule number two: watch everyone else. Closely. This is where you can get a feel for yourself of who is good, or bad, at what. And remember that information. It will be crucial for you later. And rule number three? Learn everything you can. You only have two weeks, but do your best. Really. Don’t forget about survival stuff, because traps are a great way to take out a lot of enemies, and you don’t want to starve or die of dehydration because you were too focused on throwing spears or some shit for a week in training.”

Vriska is listening eagerly, but Dave couldn’t care less. He’s heard all this crap before from not just Bro, but everyone else in their family. He knows this by heart. 

Bro checks his watch, and stands back up, draining his coffee. “Alright, go time. Prepare yourselves.” 

They leave in a group, and Bro sees them to the elevator that leads down to the training facility. Dave yawns on the trip down, wishing had had both more time to sleep and breakfast in his stomach. One piece of toast was going to make this for a very long day. 

-

The woman standing in front of them is terrifies the living hell out of Tavros. She is easily over six feet tall, towering over them with a thin frame wrapped in a black and green jacket. Her hair is jet black with green as well, and her eyes are so light they might as well have been white. 

“As you are all aware, there are two weeks until the Games begin. This training time is mandatory for all Tributes, and you will do well to learn what you can. After your time has passed, there will be an examination by the Game Makers to score you. This will be a presentation of any skill that you think is worthy.”

Tavros shivers in his spot between Roxy and the girl from Eleven. This lady’s voice is making his spine quake. 

“Nothing is mandatory, but as I’m sure you’ve been told, you should try to be well-rounded. About a third of you will die from either dehydration or starvation.”

Tavros gulps. Is that going to be him? It can’t be. He was going to study hard and make sure he wasn’t.

“Alright. Get going then. You’re gonna need it.”

-

Rose goes straight for plant identification. It’s something she knows she’ll need, so why not start memorizing them now? The big screen of the table lights up in front of her, names of plants on one side and pictures on the other. Her first score is below a 60%, so she frowns and tries again. She keeps at it, tapping and matching, until she is up to an 88% and she feels someone looming behind her. She turns to see the sort of dweeby looking boy from District Eight with glasses and big buckteeth. He looks barely old enough to be here. 

“Sorry. I’ll let you have a turn,” Rose says politely, stepping away and letting him have a clear shot at the table. 

“Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I’ve been on for a while.” She pauses, glancing him over again. His black hair is sticking up funny, probably from sleeping with wet hair, and it doesn’t look like there’s much muscle to him. “What’s your name?” She asks before she really considers if she wants to know the answer. It’s just going to make the Game itself much more painful, caring about people. 

“John Egbert,” he answers, smiling a little. Well, too late now. “And you?”

“Rose Lalonde.”

“Well, it’s uh, nice to meet you. Good luck with your training and everything.”

“Yeah, you too.” 

They part ways, Rose going over to the camouflage station. Another girl is there, the girl from Seven, tall, her short black hair styled even at this hour in the morning. She glances at Rose as she joins her, and Rose gets a glimpse of bright jade eyes against pale skin. They are both quiet as Rose joins her at the paints, choosing some moss to try and replicate on her skin. 

After Rose has started painting her hand, she glances over to see the other girl is almost finished with the bark and leaves on her forearm. “You’re really good,” Rose comments casually, eyeing the detail she’s put into her work. 

“It’s alright. I’ve done better.” The girl puts down her paintbrush. “But thank you, Miss Lalonde.” When Rose arches an eyebrow at her, she laughs something light and airy. “Yes, I know your name. Or should I just call you Rose?”

“That depends. What do I call you?”

“Kanaya.” Kanaya is smiling at her now, mystery on her perfectly shaped lips. “I’m Kanaya.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” Rose pauses, unsure of what to say next. “So… I take it you paint often?”

“In my free time,” Kanaya replies, starting to wash off the paint. “I used to think I could have made a living off of it.”

Rose doesn’t allow her emotions to show on her face. “Well, you could have. You’re very talented.”

“Thanks. It’s just not a part of my district’s craft. I would need to be in Three for that.”

She finishes cleaning herself and moves on to the brush. 

“Right. I guess the Capitol would consider paintings to be a luxury.”

“Indeed.”

Kanaya is finished, and Rose feels a little sad that she is going to leave. “I guess I’ll see you around then.”

“Yes you will, Miss Lalonde,” Kanaya says, and Rose feels a tiny jump inside of her. Miss Lalonde. That sounded pretty good. 

-

Foolishly, the first thing Tavros tries to do is throw a spear. 

He walks over to the weapons rack and picks one up, a heavy steel poll with a pointed tip at the end. He is all right when he first picks it up, but as he tries to get a proper grip on it, he wobbles a little, his new, streamlined legs still foreign to him. The poll is so long that he is losing his balance, and he can feel the eyes of some of his fellow Tributes watching him. His face heats up from both embarrassment and effort as he finally gets to where he can hold the spear. 

With two hands, anyways. 

It’s when he tries to change the spear over to just rest in one hand that he loses his balance and topples over. 

The clank of his legs and the metal spear against the floor is agonizing. His eyes are squeezed shut, praying that some miracle will happen and no one will have seen that. Or maybe that this is just a bad dream and he will wake up back at home in his lumpy bed to the sounds of goat kids and calves wanting milk. Either way, Tavros feels the rest of his stomach drop out of existence when he peaks his eyes open and finds himself still in the training center, with almost everyone staring at him. He shakes from head to toe as he tries to stand and bring the spear up with him, but his legs won't cooperate and his arms are quaking.

"Need a hand, bro?"

Tavros looks up to see a tall, lanky figure standing over him, offering a bony hand. The owner has wild hair and is giving him a lazy smile, one that Tavros is pretty sure is genuine. He isn't really sure if he can take it though. 

"I—uh—"

"It's cool, bro. I'm not gonna make fun of a brother who has a little trouble picking up a spear," the guy says, and Tavros decides he might as well accept his hand. He is pretty sure that this guy is a Career, and maybe being on good terms with one wouldn't hurt. Tavros is yanked to his feet with impressive force, and he would have tumbled over again had it not been for the boy catching and steadying him. 

"Careful bro, don't wanna fall again, do you?"

"Thanks," Tavros says in a meek voice, looking at the bar of metal on the ground. At least most of the onlookers were back to what they were doing before Tavros' fall. 

"You wanna miracle?" 

This guy is so confusing. "Wh-what?"

"Here, let me show you how this works."

Tavros is skeptical. This guys is taller, sure, and probably a Career, but he can't have much more muscle than himself—

THUMP

In one perfect move, the spear is chucked across the room in an arch that plants itself at the heart of the target. The guy turns back to him, unfazed by his flawless throw. "See? It's all about how you motherfuckin' hold the spear and the force. You gotta just let it... be."

"Uh... uh..." Tavros is unable to respond with anything cohesive. 

"Oh, I motherfuckin' forgot! What's your name, bro?"

"T-Tavros. District... Ten."

The boy smiles even wider, and holds his hand out again for Tavros to shake. "Gamzee Makara, District Three. It's very cool to make your motherfuckin' acquaintance." 

-

Karkat is still very unsure about how he thinks of the other Tributes. 

On one hand, he really wants to hate all of them. He has to; otherwise, he's never going to even come close to surviving this thing. He ought to hate every imperfection in their forms, their strengths and weaknesses, their vices and virtues. 

But on the other hand, it's really hard to not pity himself and everyone around him. 

For instance, he watches as a girl in red glasses tries to hack at a target with a sickle. She keeps swinging and missing more often than hitting, and she's right next to it. Karkat creeps near her, trying to figure it out. Maybe she's sucking on purpose?

"Who is that?" she asks suddenly, turning. Her glasses are slipping down the bridge of her nose, and Karkat can see washed out, milky eyes behind them.

Holy shit cakes, this chick is blind. 

"I, uh, no one!" Karkat says stupidly, taking a step back. He doesn't want her to accidentally slice him open. Who the fuck let a blind girl into the Games?

"Wow. I can still hear, you know. Seriously, who are you? You smell like cherries."

"What? What the fuck kind of nonsense is that?" Karkat retorts. 

"Facts, you shouty-jerk face."

"That's not my name."

"Then what is it? Fruity Rumpus Asshole Factory? Because that's all I'm getting from what's coming out of your mouth."

Karkat takes a deep breath and draws himself up. "Karkat Vantas. District Twelve. And I'm making sure you don't kill anyone with those sickles."

The girl laughs. "Hah. Well, Karkat, it should please you then that I don't plan on, nor will I, kill anyone with these." She holds them up across her chest and grins. "How do I look? Like a badass farmer?"

Karkat snorts. "More ridiculous than anything."

Her grin drops immediately. "I think I'm going to just keep calling you Fruity Rumpus Asshole Factory."

"Yeah, then maybe I should call you Killer Wheat: Blinded Nightmare."

"My name is Terezi," she responds, nudging her foot around until she finds the red cane on the floor, then grabbing it. "I'm in Six. But that doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Karkat asks, following her as she navigates back to where the weapons are, replacing the sickles.

"Because all but one of us are going to die, and trying to place bets based off Districts is stupid," she responds matter-of-factly. "I plan on winning just as much as the Careers do."

Karkat snorts again, this time in a little wave of them so that he has to bite down on his hand to prevent full-out laughter. 

Terezi frowns. "What?"

"Hate to break it to you, Terezi, but you're blind. You can't see."

"And? What does that have to do with anything?"

Karkat is speechless. For the first god damned time here in the Capitol, he can't say a word for almost five seconds. "How about... everything? You're going into a new environment with no idea about anything. You could die at the very beginning unless you somehow manage to get your bearings and avoid everyone."

"You obviously have no idea what it's like, being blind." Terezi is shaking her head, clearly displeased. "My other senses are fantastic. I will always be able to tell where you are now, because I know your smell. You smell like cherry and coal and just a little bit like an asshole factory." She grins when she hears his low growl. "But seriously. You should be worrying about yourself. Don't want the blind girl to show you up, do you?" She moves forward suddenly, grabbing his head and running her tongue over his jaw. "Don't want to get killed by the blind girl, little boy, do you?"

"Ugh, gross! You fucking freak!" Karkat yells, shoving her off him. When people look at them for making a disturbance, Terezi feigns being hurt. 

"You don't have to be so mean! I just bumped into you!" she pretended to wail, waving her cane around dramatically. Karkat storms away from her, eager for this shit to be over. 

Why was everyone here a fucking sociopath? He was so, so fucking screwed. 

-

Vriska is enjoying the climbing web. It's like a huge, person-sized spider web, with thick cording of ropes intertwining each other making a net that stretched from floor to wall to ceiling. She watched in agony as other people tried to conquer it, and laughed when they fell on their asses, and then scrambled up there herself. She was hanging upside down, letting the extensions fall away from her head and dangle in space. 

This was so fucking cool. 

And at least up here, she could get away from Dave and all the other losers and just watch them, waiting for one of them to fall into her trap and be wrapped up and saved for a snack later. Ooh, maybe that tiny stick from Eleven would get close enough she could snatch him up. Or that dork from Ten. He sure as hell wasn't making it past the first day. If he did, it would be a complete miracle, or maybe a lack of mercy from higher powers. 

Either way, she had such juicy plans for them in the arena. 

Vriska climbs down, landing softly on her feet. She looks around at everyone training. Several people are trying their hand at shooting bows and throwing spears, but all of them are miserable. That blonde girl from Four is back at the plant identification, and the girl from Seven is there with her. What the hell, have they already formed an alliance? Jegus, that was quick. Vriska moves her eyes on, and she spots the pathetic boy with prosthetics from Ten. She would have gone and harassed him for his failure with the spear earlier that day, but he was getting training tips from the lanky guy from Three and she didn't dare fuck with that. At least, not yet. 

_'Patience, Vriska,'_ she tells herself. _'You've got plenty of time for that once the Games starts. All the time you need.’_

Vriska leaves to find something else to do, already bored. Maybe she could work on her endurance training? They have some sort of obstacle course set up that she could run. 

This was going to two agonizing, very long weeks. 

-

"So, how was the first day of training?"

It was unusual that Beck was starting a conversation, but Karkat guesses he is because it's just the two of them and Jade, and not much is being said while they pick at their food. With Kankri gone, the penthouse sure is quiet. Karkat isn't sure what was or is worse anymore - Kankri constantly blabbing on about the Capitol and the Games, or the stoic, slightly awkward silences that the remaining three share all the time. 

"I thought it was okay. I tried out a lot of different weapons, and I'm still not sure if I want to try and learn one or two while I'm at it," Jade says, continuing to separate the foods on her plate. 

"Karkat?"

"It was... whatever." Karkat sets down his fork, his appetite completely lost. "I met the girl from Six and she was absolutely nuts. She's blind, she licked me, said I smelled like cherries, and called me an asshole."

Jade stifles a laugh with her hand, and Beck says, "Who was that, Terezi Pyrope?"

"I guess so. Hey, so if they fixed Jade's eyesight so she doesn't need those shitty glasses anymore, why didn't they make Terezi un-blind?"

"Maybe they couldn't," Beck offered, eating a fork-load of potatoes. "Or maybe she didn't want them to. Sometimes, Tributes will refuse to accept their bodies being 'fixed' for the Games. There are a few who did this year."

"Like who?" Jade asks, setting down her own silver wear. 

"Well, I know Terezi did. And so did Vriska Serket, the girl from Five."

"What's wrong with her? Besides looking like a fucking psycho," Karkat adds as an afterthought.

"She lost her left arm in a training accident not that long ago," Beck replies. "At least, that's what I've heard. She's from a nice enough District that her surgery and prosthetics were good, so she's fine and refused to let the Capitol install a new one. They forced Tavros Nitram to, and thank god." Beck takes a long swig from his wine glass. "He needed it. Taking away those shit legs gave him more of a sliver of hope. He might not die in the first ten minutes, just the first hour now." When he sees the look of shock on Jade's face, he shrugs. "What? That's how it is. You'd kind of have to be stupid to not accept whatever the Capitol can do to fix you up before the Games. It gives you a serious disadvantage."

 _'Unless you're Terezi, apparently,'_ Karkat thinks bitterly. 

"So what then?" Jade asks, snapping Karkat out of his thoughts. "How are we supposed to survive the first hour?"

"You run," Beck says simply. "You just run the hell away from the Cornucopia. Grab the nearest bag of supplies and book it. The biggest bloodbath usually occurs there, with people fighting over supplies and such. But if you can nab something and get out, your chances of surviving even to the next day dramatically improve." He finishes off his current glass of wine and pours himself another. 

"Is that what you did?" Jade asks. Karkat decides to sit back and let her ask the questions - she obviously has a list in her head.

"Damn right. I got out of there, while over half the idiots that were chosen got slaughtered right in front of the mouth. They actually ruined quite a bit of food, either by trampling it or contaminating it with blood."

Karkat feels his stomach twitch as he looks at the bread in front of him and tries to imagine it soaked in blood, blood from someone who had been sliced open by that Eridan Ampora, or maybe even District One, Dirk Strider. It made him nauseous. 

"But what if everyone runs? What then?"

"Well, then they'll be too distracted by their own plans to worry about you, right?" Beck is doing his damndest to make sure Jade and Karkat don't feel too scared about this, and Karkat silently appreciates it. 

"I... I guess." Jade isn't too convinced, but she goes back to eating. Karkat, on the other hand, pushes his plate away. He's beginning to form a plan in his head, and he needs to go be alone to really hash it out. 

He's going to try and pull himself and Jade through this whole big shit storm, even if it's by a thread of hope. 

-

Eridan has spent an entire week fighting with himself, trying to decide if he wants to ask Feferi to team up with him.

Tactically, it’s a no brainer. She’s a Career. She’s skilled in stealth, hand-to-hand, and good with a spear. He himself is more than capable of winning this thing on his own, but together, they would be unstoppable. 

And that’s the problem.

Eridan keeps running the scenario of himself and Feferi together, the last Tributes alive in the Game. Every way ends it total and complete heartbreak. What if he has to kill her? What if she kills him? What if she begs to be killed so he can win? What will he chose, when it comes down to it: honor for his District and himself, or her beautiful life? Or would he watch her die in his arms, or himself in hers? What if someone kills her, right in front of him? At least he would have the motivation to win the Games without hesitation. 

He doesn’t know if he can handle all these possibilities, but you never know until you try, right? Maybe… maybe they could just win this. Together. 

“Hey, Feferi.” 

She’s talking to some puny kid from a lower District with two different colored eyes. Why was she with a freak like him?

“Um, yes? You’re Eridan, right?”

She knew is name. That was… well, awesome. “Yes. I can’t help but notice that you’re one of the best here,” Eridan says, trying to seem very casual. “Howw wwould you like to join myself and my comrade, Wwinda? Wwe’re going to wwipe the floor here.” 

Eridan hears a snort, and he throws a dirty look in the other kid’s direction. “Wwhat?”

“Nothing,” he snickers. “You justh talk funny, thath’s all.”

“Look who’s talking, lispy,” Eridan snaps back, but he regrets it when he sees Feferi frowning at him. 

“I, uh, thanks, Eridan, but I don’t think it would work out. We’ve got different interests in this Game.” 

Stunned, Eridan stutters, “Uh… wwhat?” 

“I said no,” she says before turning and walking away with the other boy with the stupid fucking lisp and special snowflake eyes, leaving Eridan frozen with his heart lying broken on the floor.

-

Over the next two weeks, Aradia becomes increasingly more worried. 

She sees people around her talking, making alliances, trying their hands at various tasks, and all the while, attempting to make themselves a better candidate for Victor. 

Herself and Vagabond, on the other hand, are just trying to get by unnoticed, but she doesn't think it's working too well.

Vagabond stands out too much. He's one of the youngest here, the weakest, the smallest. Only the girl from Eight, Nepeta Leijon, is smaller than him. And it's not for lack of trying, either. She's watched and even helped Vagabond try and get a handle on using some weapons, but all he's been sort of successful with so far is the knives, and only at close quarters. He can't throw them with enough force to really stick in the targets. And sure, the targets aren't made of soft flesh and blood, but it's still not exactly a promising start. Aradia herself does her best to keep her own combat skills a mystery, wanting to still have the element of surprise should they be ambushed in the Arena. She is pretty good with both a staff and a scythe, but she pretends like she's never seen either in her life. It's not the best strategy, but it'll do until she can think of something better. 

But now they're nearing the end of training, and she still don't have a better idea of how she's going to pull herself and Vagabond through this. 

She's tried going to every station, learning how to make a campfire and running the obstacle course, but nothing comes to mind. Nothing seems like it's actually going to help in the long run. Nothing inspires a plan in her. 

The morning of their last day is no different. She stands by Vagabond, resisting the urge to grab his hand and run away with him, just to see how far they would get, and she tries to think of a plan for the Games that are going to start in just a few days time. 

When she comes up blank yet again, she can't help but feel that she's let both of them down.

-

Roxy thinks that watching all these people and their training is extremely funny. 

She sneaks a flask down with her to training every day, and has been at least tipsy, if not more, for the entire process. It's pretty fun to try and shoot a bow and arrow when you can't even stand still, let alone shoot anything near to straight. 

But it's given her a lot of time to watch the other Tributes. And there are quite few funny little alliances that she can see forming. Not that it matters much to her and her game plan, but it’s been entertaining to watch. People are allying all across District lines. The weirdest combination she’s found so far is the tiny girl from Eight making friends with the hulking brute from Four. She could see them being a deadly combo, the girl bringing down some enemies with her cat-like agility and the guy finishing them off with a blow to the head. Roxy wonders about if they make it the finale of the Games, who will finish who off and how. Surely they will, since it doesn’t look like anyone else could even come close to killing this guy… Equius, is his name? Something weird like that. 

And then there’s this guy that the other Tributes only call Renegade. He’s got some killer marksmanship, showing up everyone else with the bow and arrow and throwing knives. He’s somehow decided to team up with the plain-looking girl from District Nine, Penny Malloy. Why he would do that, Roxy can’t guess. Maybe he’s planning on ditching her in a pivotal moment, sacrificing her to save himself. Maybe he’ll carry her through the Games and kill her in the end, since she would be easily dispensable. Or maybe they genuinely feel they will work well together, and maybe Penny has some sort of talent she’s keeping under wraps. For all Roxy knows, she could be a master assassin. 

What she’s having the hardest time understanding is this big group of Tributes that have, randomly, all decided to stick together. There’s a whole lot of them that have been talking with each other, planning. It’s Lalonde from Four that looks like she’s leading it, and she’s got a Career, Feferi from One, in on it as well. There’s the scrawny boy from Nine, the buck-toothed one from Eight, and the tall, elegant-looking girl from Seven. It’s all very confusing, unless Rose and Feferi are planning on turning on them right when the Games start and then taking off together. 

Yeah, that makes sense. 

“Uh, Roxy? Are you okay?” 

It’s Tavros, and he’s waiting for her to follow him. The last day of training is finished, and everyone is leaving to go eat and rest up for later in the evening when they have their examinations. 

“Oh, just peeeeaaaaaaaachy,” Roxy responds, and turns to follow him back to the elevator. 

She’s gonna need a few drinks tonight. 

-

Jake English can’t keep his eyes off him. 

They’re all sitting in this sort of waiting room, dreading being called into that training area one more time to show off for the Capitol. Jake is sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, chin on top of laced fingers, and he can’t stop glancing between the clock and the boy sitting across from him. 

Dirk Strider, age seventeen, more of a man than anything, the training uniform shirt hugging his biceps, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes. A tall hunk of pure Career power, and Jake wants to go talk to him. 

He fears he may have fallen into lust with him. 

“Dirk Strider, District One.”

It’s finally time. Dirk rises and walks out the door and into the training room. 

Jake feels his heart sinking into his gut. 

Of all the shitty luck in the world, he just had to finally find a guy who he thought was interesting in a death match. 

-

Roxy still isn’t there. Tavros has been waiting and waiting for her to show up, and she’s still gone. She waved him off vaguely when he left for the evaluation, saying she’d join him in a minute as she took a swig of her fourth drink. So Tavros left, trusting that she would be right behind him, if not because Rufioh would kick her out. 

But he was getting called in and she still wasn’t showing up. 

Tavros left for the training room, his fake knees creaking as his weight shifts on top of them. When he makes it into the room, he finds the Game Master, Jack Noir, to be sitting up on a balcony to watch with his crew of Game Makers. Tavros looks around for something to do, and he sees a spear on the weapons rack. 

This time, he wasn’t going to fail.

He’s been training for this. Gamzee has helped him out a lot, and he can throw one pretty okay now. It’s not like he’s terribly weak – he just has awful balance. He tries to not be nervous as he quickly walks over and grabs a spear before retreating back to an okay distance away from the target. His palms are sweating as he adjusts his grip and tenses his muscles. 

_‘Okay Tavros, you can do this. You can do this.’_

Right as he is throwing the spear, Tavros feels it slip from all the sweat and it loses most of its power. It hits the target in the leg and doesn’t even pierce it, just knocking it to the side. He freezes as the clanking of the metal spear hitting the floor vibrates through his feet and shakes his spine. 

Without knowing quite what he is doing until he does it, he runs out of the room, his metal feet thudding against the concrete. 

-

“Here we go. Let’s see how you did.”

Dave, Vriska, Bro and Aranea are all sitting in front of the television the next day, waiting for the training scores to be announced. The announcer, Andrew Hussie, looks sharp in a green suit, hair side-swept out of his eyes. 

“So, as you all know, these scores are the cumulative of two weeks worth of training, when the Tributes perform for the Game Makers. Let’s see what they have to say.”

Dave couldn’t give two shits about what he was going to get. It wouldn’t matter anyways, he had done terrible on purpose. He was just waiting for Vriska to say something so he’d have an excuse to punch her in the mouth. 

“From District One, Dirk Strider with a… six?” 

What? Dave glanced over at Bro, who was frowning, if but faintly. Careers never got below at least an eight. Hussie is obviously confused as well, but moves on. 

“Feferi Pixies with an eight.” 

At least that one made sense. 

“From District Two, Eridan Ampora with a nine and Winda Quinnell with a ten.” 

Excellent. That would piss that Ampora douche-canoe right off. Dave can just see him now, pouting in the corner, weeping over his lost “victory.” 

“From District Three…”

Why the fuck did any of this matter? What was the point of scoring people? Everyone knows that the Careers are good, and anyone from lower Districts would play it safe by pretending to suck. It’s just basic intelligence. 

“From District Five, Dave Strider with a five.” 

Dave could sense the boredom in Hussie’s voice already. It must not be that exciting when the Careers do poorly. 

“Vriska Serket with a nine.”

“Yes!” 

Vriska pumps her fist into the air, cheering. She throws a dangerous grin at Dave, who doesn’t respond. “Guess this is going to be pretty easy,” she brags, leaning back again, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “I mean, I knew I would get one of the highest scores. It’s only natural.”

“Terezi Pyrope with a two.” 

Vriska laughs at the TV. “Well, that’s no surprise. They let a _blind_ girl into the Games. Talk about easy prey.”

_‘Holy shit, could she just shut up for two seconds?’_

The following scores are unimpressive. The two tributes from Seven get decent scores (an eight and a seven), but they’re the last of anything decent. 

“From District Ten, Tavros Nitram with a three.”

“Isn’t that the crippled kid with fake legs?” Vriska asks, glancing at Dave. Like he is supposed to know.

“Bit rich, coming from you,” Dave says, glancing sideways at her left arm. She could have afforded skin coverings for the metal bones and wire nerves, but no. Vriska liked showing off, and losing her arm was more of an improvement than a detriment in her opinion. 

“At least I can control myself,” Vriska snorts. “He can barely walk.”

“Whatever.”

“Roxy Poid with… what, that’s can’t be right.” All four of them in the room perk up at Hussie’s confusion. This hasn’t ever happened before. 

“Roxy Poid’s score is confirmed as a zero.”

The long silence that follows is awkward and unsure. 

There is no fucking way she could have earned a zero, unless she…

“Did she… show up?” Vriska asked, stunned. 

“She must have, there’s no way she couldn’t,” Aranea reassures, but even she looks worried. 

This is going to be such a fucked up Game, but Dave isn’t hedging any bets yet. He can sense that more than a small handful of people are playing weak or dumb to make themselves less of targets, and Dave just knows that practically everyone has a smart plan. 

So he’s got to be even better than all of them. 

-

Karkat is not amused by the tight-fitting suit he’s been forced into, waiting at the end of a long line of Tributes waiting for an interview with the ridiculous and sarcastic Andrew Hussie. He’s hot, his bright orange hair has been spiked into something that is supposed to look like flames, and it’s way too loud for his liking. 

“It’ll be fine.”

Jade is next to him, wearing a strapless black and red dress that matches his own suit. It looks stunning on her, but Karkat doesn’t want to say anything. That would be super weird. 

“What?” is what he manages to say. 

“The interview. More specifically, _your_ interview. It’s going to be fine.”

Karkat takes a great gulp, trying to settle the intense nerves building in his stomach. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say, Jade.”

She gives him a small smile and turns to look up at the television before them that’s broadcasting the stage just meters away from them. 

“And now, here’s everyone’s favorite Capitolite! The one, the only, the amazing, the crazy, Andrew Hussie!” 

The spot goes up on the chairs and Hussie is brought into view, brown hair spiking with lime green and wearing a shimmery forest green suit. 

“Hello, hello, and welcome to the Forty-Second Hunger Games!” The crowd cheers loudly as Hussie takes a bow. “And thank you Ms. Paint for that riveting introduction. Now, our first Tribute is a lovely girl from District One, the swimmingly beautiful Feferi!” 

Karkat can’t decide if people actually look good, or just as ridiculous as they did at the presentation, just in a different way. Feferi’s dress is incredibly poofy and glittery, but she looks like she’s wearing the ocean. 

Karkat sighs and sinks down on the wall, defeated. 

They should just get it over with and kill them off already. 

-

“You alright, Jake?”

Terezi’s voice is low and a bit grating to Jake, whose eyes are glued to the screen in front of him. He’s watching Feferi Pixies answer questions with the grace and poise of a princess, waiting for his prince to come on stage. 

“Uh, yeah. Why?” 

“Because you haven’t said a word since we got here and you’re usually talkative.”

“So?”

“You’re staring at the screen, aren’t you?”

“No,” Jake says, shifting his eyes away. _He’s_ not on screen anyways, and won’t be for another few minutes. 

“You totally are.”

“No!” Jake feels himself growing hot. He tries to shift away from Terezi, but there’s really nowhere to go. 

Terezi is shaking with laughter, grinning under her red glasses that their designer has put her in. “Wow. Who do you have a crush on, Jake-y boy? That Feferi girl?”

Jake is speechless. This blind, fourteen-year-old girl is bloody _impossible._

“Better hope not, because she’s already attached to that Sollux kid and Eridan Ampora has fallen head-over-heels for her.”

“Great.”

Maybe if he pretends he likes Feferi, she won’t see the real focus of his affection. 

“Thank you, Feferi!” 

Thank goodness, it’s over. 

“Now, for our first handsome young man of the night, we have Dirk Strider!” 

Jake’s attention is completely focused again. Screw it, if Terezi wants to make fun of him later, she could. It wouldn’t matter in a few days anyways.

Dirk walks up on stage, his suit fitting him snuggly across his shoulders, the dark blue cloth and electric turquoise embroidery somehow making his pale blonde hair white. The lights are reflecting against his dark glasses, and Jake wishes that he could see his eyes. He remembers seeing them during the presentation, burning orange eyes that were as intimidating as his stance. 

“So Dirk, how are you?”

“Spectacular.”

The audience chuckles at his short response. He sits there, unmoving, one long, slender leg crossed over the other. 

“You come from the costal district, right Dirk? Do you feel the skills you’ve learned there will help you in the Games?”

“Well, if there’s swimming involved, then I think I’m pretty safe.”

Dirk has a little smirk on his face, and Jake has a hard time deciding if it’s because he’s amused by Hussie and his silly questions or at some private joke in his own head. 

Jake really, _really_ wants to know. 

“We’ll see about that. Maybe you’ll just get your wish if Jack is listening.” 

Another ripple of laughter. 

“So Dirk, you’re confident going in, I take it?”

“I don’t want to be too optimistic,” Dirk responds with a shrug. “But yeah, I think I’m ready. I’m not going to deny that I’ve been training and I feel pretty good about my own abilities.”

Hussie smiles at him in a way that makes Jake a little bit uncomfortable, like he knows something terrible that they will only find out when it’s too late. 

“Well, this has been eye-opening. Dirk Strider everyone!” 

Dirk stands and leaves. Oh shit. He’s coming back down the hallway. 

_‘What do I say, what do I say, WHAT DO I SAY?’_

Dirk is almost there. Jake has to say something. He has to. 

“G-good job, old sport,” Jake stutters, blushing and trying to make himself look at Dirk. 

Dirk stops in his tracks, and tips his glasses down to look at Jake. His fire eyes catch Jake’s and hold him there, his face heating up more and more by the second. 

“Thanks, man,” he says casually, tipping his glasses back up and continuing on. 

It takes a moment or two for Jake to realize that he hasn’t been breathing. 

-

Rose is calm, collected. She isn’t nervous or excited about the interview. She’s just there to put on a show. 

_Put on a show._

She knows her mom is watching. She knows that Hussie will ask about that, try and compare them. Everyone has, ever since she was born. It was like she was destined to be a Tribute. 

“From District Four, daughter of the previous Victor in their District, we have Rose Lalonde!”

Showtime. 

Rose walks with measured steps in her blue heels, the skirt of her gold and orange dress swishing around her knees as she steps up to Hussie and the chairs. The bright lights reflect all the metallic threading on her person. They shake hands and sit down, Rose crossing her ankles and letting her hands rest on her lap. 

“Hello, Rose. How are you feeling?”

“Truthfully? Indifferent,” she responds with a smile. “I’m not nervous, but I’m not excited. I know what’s coming and I’m keeping my mind on that.”

“Do you feel that this has to do with your upbringing? Your mother is, of course, a celebrity.”

“Possibly. I always had this… knowledge that I was destined to be in the Games, but not to win. That was her job, to win. I grew up with the feeling that something more significant had always been meant for her. That she was a heroine displaced in some way, resigned to the inglorious duty of raising me, and preparing me in her way.”

The crowd is very quiet, only noises of shifted and slight whispers. Hussie takes a moment to consider his next comment. 

“That’s… eye opening, Rose. So you don’t think you will win?”

“Oh, I’m not exactly saying that. I’m just not counting on it like other Tributes are. I know the chances and my own abilities. Actually, I will be very surprised if I do win.”

The crowd it quiet, and Hussie isn’t quite sure what to say. “Err, well, thank you. Rose Lalonde!” 

The applause is polite, but awkward. Rose doesn’t care though. 

They both know, herself and her mother, that she won’t win. 

-

“And now, we move on to our teenage protégé, the robotic girl, Vriska Serket!” 

Vriska is shaking with anticipation and glee. This was her time to shine, in this glowing white dress that lights up around the edges. She struts onto stage to meet the roaring crowd. Hussie is smiling at her, and he kisses her flesh hand before they sit down in the plush chairs. 

“How are you this evening, Vriska?”

“I’m excellent, thank you. How about yourself?”

She was practiced and confident, so, so ready to please the crowd. They would see. She could be a perfect little girl and a ruthless killer, switching in a split second. 

“I’m just as good. You’re rather eager tonight.”

The crowd chuckles along with her. “Well, I just can’t wait for tomorrow. I think I’ve got this in the bag.”

Hussies raises his eyebrows. “Do you now? Well, we will just have to see about that, won’t we? I’m sure you’ll bring your District honor, at any rate.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, one final question. Your robotic arm. Do you feel in any way disadvantaged by it?”

Vriska grins, showing bright white teeth between the blue lipstick. “Oh no, not at all. In fact, and I think it will be very beneficial to my survival, but we’ll save that for the Games. No need to spoil it now.” She flexes the metal hand for show, enjoying the sound of the joints moving and locking into place with each movement. 

The audience laughs and claps. Hussie stands and Vriska follows suit, Hussie grabbing her flesh hand again and thrusting it into the air with his. “Vriska Serket everyone!” 

Vriska’s smirk felt wicked and so, so wrong on her face, but she can’t help but feel like she has already won half the battle. 

-

Tavros is getting terribly nervous and itchy in his suit. It’s uncomfortable, he still has problems walking, and the clunky shoes don’t help. There have been a lot of intimidating interviews, from Dirk Strider to Vriska Serket and Abner Duncan, all of which seemed to be powerhouses dedicated to winning the Games. Then there are the silently scary ones, like Equius Zaahak, Dave Strider, and Kanaya Maryam. Tavros thinks that they are going to be more the kind he wants to avoid, though he isn’t sure how well that will work. He would probably never hear them coming.

“You’re up,” someone says, and Roxy is pulled away from him. She leaves behind the stink of alcohol and despair, and Tavros wishes that she could have stayed by his side a little longer. Despite not really knowing each other and Roxy nearly always being intoxicated, Tavros already felt a sort of attachment to her, and he thought she maybe felt the same way about him? Like they were both in this together, and didn’t want to hurt each other. 

Roxy is stumbling all the way up there, hiccupping. The camera zooming in on her only exaggerates this, and Tavros flinches. Why did she have those drinks before hand? Why did she sneak a flask into her dress? And why did she always insist that he didn’t tell anyone, but let him know? It was obvious she was drunk – he didn’t quite see the point to “hiding it.”

“Whoa there.” Hussie catches Roxy when the toe of her high heels catches on the platform up to the seats and she nearly falls on her face. The audience roars with laughter at what they think is klutziness. “You alright, Miss Poid?”

“I’m just spec _tabular,_ ” she says, a twisted smile on her face. “How’er about yerself?”

She hiccups again and the audience loves it. She’s winning them over by being completely wasted. Tavros has to admire her a little for it. 

“I’m well, thank you.” Tavros can see Hussie starting to be less surprised by her and find her more amusing. “So, Roxy, can I ask you a difficult question?”

“Yessir.”

“Your older sister was in the Games before, wasn’t she?”

“Whatsit to you?” Roxy’s face has fallen into a soft frown. “Wha does my dead sis have to do with you?”

“I’m just asking—”

“Fuckin’ _nothing,_ tha’s what.” Roxy actually looks irritated now. “You’n your Capital _swine._ Yeah that’sa word, swine. You treat us like fucking toys in your sick game, ‘n I mean sick like _gross,_ not like fuckin’ awesome as shit.”

There are murmurs in the audience, and Roxy has lost all of her charm. She’s turned into a raging drunk anarchist. 

Tavros sees the Peacekeepers rushing past him in the hallway and he feels dread building in his stomach. _‘No Roxy, please.’_

“S’ you can all go— _fuck_ off!” They’ve grabbed her and the audience is booing, but whether it is at Roxy or the Peacekeepers, Tavros isn’t sure. Roxy is drunkenly trying to fight them, but they’re obviously winning and literally dragging her off the stage. Roxy trips and loses a shoe, and she turns an awful shade of green. They barely get her in the hallway off stage before she vomits, ruining the bottom of her skirt and her remaining shoe. The stench churns Tavros’ stomach. They keep pulling her onwards, dragging her toes through the sick, and Tavros has to resist the urge to vomit himself. 

There are a few moments of awkward silence, and then the noise picks up again as Hussie starts talking again, but the words don’t register with Tavros until he hears his own name. 

“Tavros Nitram! Are you backstage drinking as well?”

The audience laughs, quaking his steel knees. He takes hesitant steps out onto the platform, and he is nearly blinded by the bright lights. He stumbles until he sees Hussie, an exhausted smile on his face. 

“There you are! Not drinking, were we?”

“N-no,” Tavros stutters, turning red. He clunks into the chair, desperately wishing to get out of this terribly hot suit. “I-I’m just…”

“Nervous?” Hussie finishes, giving him a smile. Tavros nods, swallowing down the bile that’s rising in his throat. He’s unsure now if it’s because of nerves or the smell or Roxy’s vomit lingering in his nose. “That’s alright, Tavros. How about you tell us a little bit about your life back in District Eleven?”

Okay, Tavros can actually talk about this. “We-well, ever since my accident, I, uh, have been in charge, um, of taking care of the, uh, baby animals,” he says, playing with his hands in his lap. “So like, I feed them, and uh, do some vet care if they get hurt or, um, sick. That kind of stuff.”

Hussie beams at him and he hears a quiet _aww_ from the audience. “That sounds very nice, Tavros. Now, I know this is hard, but can you maybe tell us how you got those legs? You mentioned an accident.” 

Tavros felt his face heating up. “O-oh, I, uh… well, a f-few years ago, th-there was this, um, stampede, and I, uh, was caught in it and… uh, trampled.”

Hussie looked genuinely sad for him. “I’m so sorry, Tavros. I wish you the best of luck tomorrow.”

“Th-thank you.”

The audience clapped a lot before he was off stage. Roxy’s vomit had already been cleaned up, and Rufioh was waiting for him. “Good job, Tavros,” he says, putting an arm around the shaking child. “Let’s go get some dinner.”

-

As per usual, Karkat is dead last in line for _anything._ Jade’s interview went really well, and she handled it with such charm that Karkat was now a little worried about his interview. He tried to tell himself that at least he wouldn’t be drunk like that Roxy girl, or creep out Hussie by sniffing him like Terezi, or be a stupidly over-confident fuck like Vriska Serket. But then again, he would be… Karkat. Karkat who made his own Capitol ambassador leave the team

He’s really great with people like that.

“And finally, last but certainly not least, we have Karkat Vantas from District Twelve!”

Karkat grits his teeth and passes Jade out onto the stage. She gives him a quick look of good luck before he’s on the stage dragging his feet closer and closer to Hussie, until finally he’s there, shaking hands briefly before flopping down in the overstuffed chair.

“Well Karkat, how are you finding the Capitol?”

 _‘Ridiculous.’_ “It’s… luxurious.”

“Really? How so? What’s your favorite thing here?”

 _‘Everyone has so much fucking money and they don’t even work for it and they can have hot fucking showers and don’t starve. Oh, it’s fucking peachy.’_ “There are a lot of foods I had never even heard of. And… I guess the training center is pretty cool.” 

The audience laughs at that. Maybe he’s doing something right by pretending to be incredibly dull? 

“Well, that’s a new one. Karkat, do you have any final words for the audience before we wrap up this evening?”

 _‘Oh, so fucking many.’_ “Not much.” _‘First of all, fuck you. Fuck all of you with your fucking flouncing around in stupid clothes and your dumb accents and stuffing your faces.’_ “I just want to say thank you for all the hospitality in the Capitol before the Games. It sure is different from back home.” _‘And furthermore, I hope you all die in some fucking fiery apocalypse when fire bombs rain down on your heads and you all get fucked over by your own grubby, greedy hands.’_ “I just hope that I can win these Games. There is some tough competition, though. So I’m not sure how long I will last.” _‘So fuck you, fuck your Games, fuck you Jack Noir and President English. I refuse to play this Game on your terms.’_

“Thank you, Karkat.”

The audience bursts into applause as Karkat stands and shakes hands with Hussie before he is ushered off stage. Karkat doesn’t hear Hussie’s closing remarks, as he is greeted by Jade, Beck, and to his surprise, a misty-eyed Kankri. 

“Oh Karkat, that was so perfect! You did so well, and you didn’t even get angry!” Kankri all but cries, pulling Karkat into an unwanted hug. Karkat just stands there, a little numb. He can’t believe it, either. He was so sure he was going to start cussing and screaming, getting pulled away like Roxy had, but… he had kept his cool. By some miracle of the grub-fuck Jegus, it was over. They had survived the Capitol, and now… now they have to do the actual surviving part. 

Tomorrow, they would be in the Arena, and for better or worse, they might still be alive twenty-four hours from now.


	4. Part Three - This Is Just The Warm Up

Jack Noir is pacing a circle around the control room, waiting for his crew to finish setting everything up. He always hates this part, impatiently waiting for the Games to start and the blood to start flowing. His polished shoes click lightly against the tiled floor, his suit moves perfectly with the sharp movements of his body, the pins on his lapel catching the light every now and then. Eleven pins. One for each Game that he has orchestrated. Twelve games must be some kind of a record for Head Gamemakers. At least, he has never heard of anyone lasting more than five years. But Jack is on a roll. He made sure every year was more exciting than the last, with more blood, tears, and sweat each Game. He was known for dragging out the Games for as long as he could, every year topping his previous record. This year, he had to beat six days, thirteen hours, fifty-two minutes, and four seconds. 

This was going to be easy. 

“All the trackers are online now, sir,” one of his workers, Hearts for short, says. 

“Bring up the map,” Jack orders, and in the center appeared a virtual miniature of the arena, peaked mountain and all. The overhead screen showed the faces of all twenty-four Tributes with their statues and locations. They were almost to their launch sites. 

“Excellent. Keep up the good work, and remember, we have another record to beat! We’re going for a week long Hunger Game!” Jack barks, and his minions type just a little faster. No one wants to displease him – he can practically smell their fear. Maybe it’s the scar on his eye. Maybe it’s the widespread knowledge that he is a trained killer. But whatever it is about him they find the most terrifying, Jack doesn’t plan on letting up now. 

He has a very tight ship to run for the next week.

-

“Oh, Will, your shoe is untied again.”

When Aradia fusses over him, it’s usually right before something important. The day before the Reaping. Inspections of the crops. Right now, just before they get on the plane to go to the Arena. 

She’s kneeling down in front of where he’s sitting, and he holds out his foot for her to grasp in a strong hand, holding him in place while she untangles the mess of shoelace on his boots. 

“Will, when we get on there, they inject us with a tracker. It won’t hurt too much, okay? Just a little pinch.”

Vagabond feels his heart beat quicken a little at the thought of pain. What were they putting in him? How big was it? Was there going to be a needle?

“Shh, shh, it’s going to be okay.” Aradia is finished and she pulls him into a hug from her kneeling position. His nose is in her hair and she smells like flowers. He wraps his thin arms around her shoulders and hugs her back, too scared to let go. If he loses Aradia, he loses everything. She’s his sister. She’s can’t ever, ever die or leave him. She promised. 

“Okay, let’s go.” 

Aradia lets go and stands, holding out her hand to him and giving him a kind smile. She gave him that smile all the time, and Vagabond remembers the first time he met her, when he was too small to really remember much except heat from a fire and her pulling him into cool safety. They were both much younger, she barely nine years old, but she still gave him that soft, warm smile that made him think that the world was fair and safe and she would always be there for him. 

They really haven’t changed that much since that day, except for getting taller and Aradia looking more like a mom than a sister. 

Hand in hand, Aradia and Vagabond make their way to their transport to be chipped and flown to the Arena, and they only separate when they are buckled in across the plane from each other and have chips shot into their forearms. Vagabond winces when they do it, but he doesn’t even bleed. Aradia was right, it didn’t hurt too much. 

Maybe they would be okay after all. 

-

Tavros takes a tumble out of the plane when he disembarks for his entrance into the Arena. It’s been over two weeks, since he received these new legs, and he still isn’t used to them. Actually, it’s more of him not being used to walking without supports, because he always had crutches with his old pair of legs. Balancing on these metal death traps was incredibly difficult, and he still didn’t have the dexterity to walk more than five steps without wobbling. He was quickly losing hope. 

As Rufioh helps him toward the underground tube where he will then be shot up into the Arena, he thinks about Roxy. She was swaying a little this morning, but not nearly as much as she usually does. Mostly, she was just hung over from the interview last night. But she still had a flask hidden in her shirt and was taking small sips when she could.

But it was what she said to him that bothered him the most. 

“ _Don’t worry about the Cornucopia, Tavros. I’m going to make sure you get out safe, and you just grab a bag and run. Leave the rest to me._ ”

What was she planning? She hadn’t mentioned anything about it previously, any sort of plan to meet up in the Arena or how they were going to survive. Just, get out of there and let me handle things. Tavros really, really hoped that she wasn’t planning anything crazy or stupid. 

“Alright Tavros, this is it.” Rufioh is talking to him, and Tavros tries to shake Roxy out of his head to listen. “You just remember the plan.”

“G-grab the nearest th-thing on the ground and run. I-I remember.”

“And make a walking stick or something like that if you can,” Rufioh adds, and Tavros nods. How could he have forgotten that?

“Okay, well… good luck, Tavros,” Rufioh says, holding up his hand for a high five. Tavros slaps his hand weakly before stepping into the tube. 

_‘Run, Tavros. Or crawl, if you have to. It’s your only chance.’_

-

_‘Feferi. Captor. Striders. Renegade. Maryam.’_

Eridan can’t forget any of their names or faces. 

_‘Feferi. Captor. Striders. Renegade. Maryam.’_

Eridan has a very precise list of people. 

_‘Feferi. Captor. Striders. Renegade. Maryam.’_

People that he’s going to hunt down. 

He gets in the tube without any prompting, letting the glass shut out all sound except for his breathing, his heart beat, and his list. 

_‘First I get Quinnell and Serket. Wwe take wwhat wwe can from the Cornucopia, and take out anyone who’s dumb enough to be in our wway. Then wwe start the hunt.’_

Eridan hears the sound of air releasing, and his platform starts to rise up the tube.

_‘Feferi. Captor. Striders. Renegade. Maryam.’_

-

Karkat hasn’t been this scared in a long time, but he would never admit it. Especially not to Kankri, who is standing right next to him.

He hates the tube. He hates where it will take him, and he especially loathes what will happen after he steps off that platform and the Game begins.

“Karkat, just remember, don’t step off that platform before the time is called,” Kankri says cautiously. “I know Beck told you to run, but don’t do it until the clock strikes zero.”

“Why?”

“If you step off before time… you’ll explode.”

Karkat gulps. He wasn’t expecting that. 

“There are pressure sensitive mines all around the platforms that won’t be deactivated until the timer hits zero,” Kankri explains. “So just… be careful.”

Karkat nods stiffly. “Thanks, I… I will.”

Kankri smiles slightly. “Okay. Well, get in there and show them what District Twelve is made out of.”

Karkat resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Thank you for that amazing motivational speech.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do.”

Karkat steps onto the platform in the very small glass tube, and the door shut, cutting off all sound. He is hyper aware of his own body, his flowing blood, his twitching muscles, his heartbeat in his ear. As the platform below him jerks and he starts to rise, Kankri waves at him. Karkat returns it with his own feeble hand motion, and then Kankri is out of sight and replaced with dirt. His heart jumps into his throat as he throws up his arms to shield his eyes from the light. He feels a slight breeze ruffle his hair as the glass falls away. His eyes take a few moments to adjust before he can see the arena around him. 

They’re in a field surrounding the large metal Cornucopia. Karkat can see a very large mountain that looms up behind it, the trees stopping near the top and grey taking over the cap. There are trees in the distance from him, but there’s a lot of field between them and cover. 

Fuck. What if they can’t make it? What if—

“Now begins the Forty-Second Annual Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

A countdown began above the Cornucopia. 

Sixty seconds. 

-

Vriska’s blue eyes dart around, trying to take in everything as the clocked clicked down to zero. To her left, there was Eridan Ampora from District Two and then the plain looking girl from Nine. On her right was the stout boy from Six and then the blind girl from the same District. Maybe she would go after her first?

_‘No Vriska, all in time. We have to stick to the plan first.’_

It was a bit of a shock when Eridan Ampora asked her to join himself and Winda Quinnell in an alliance for the Games. Vriska had originally made plans guessing she would be going solo, so when she accepted, she had to re-plan everything. She didn’t think she would stick with them too long – she would leave when it was most advantageous. 

_Thirty seconds_

Closest to her, maybe a hundred yards away, is a bag. She would nab that and then go for the Cornucopia. That’s the plan – grab what you can and fight for some supplies before getting the hell out of there. 

_Twenty seconds_

Ideally, Vriska would like something she could attach on to her left arm, like spikes for punching, and then something like a dagger. Close-range combat was her forte, and she would rip anyone in her way to shreds.

_Twelve seconds_

No one was going to get in the way of her victory.

_Eight seconds_

_Seven_

_Six_

_Five_

-

_‘Four… three… two… one…’_

The moment the clock struck zero, Roxy was off. Her coordination is lacking, but the adrenaline and her immediate goal sobers her up as she runs. Tavros is so far away, and there are so many people… but most of them are going for the things closest to them and running away. 

_‘Smart,’_ Roxy thinks. Everyone has prepared really well for this. 

She’s watching Tavros stumble his way towards a bag, but he’s never going to make it. She watches him fall right on his face, and she picks up the pace. She dodges around the hulking beast from Four and looks up to see that Career, Quinnell, is headed for Tavros with a huge sword in her hand. 

“Tavros!” Roxy yells, and she dives in front of him. 

The pain is beyond what she could ever have imagined, and her legs twitch involuntarily beneath her. Her nerves and pain receptors are thrown into overdrive and her head explodes with pain. Tavros is shaking, just a foot or two away, watching Roxy be impaled on the sword. 

“Run,” she croaks out, and she falls with a thud to the ground as Quinnell attempts to remove the sword from Roxy’s spine. Tavros scrambles to his feet and turns tail, the bag he was after completely forgotten. 

Roxy is jerked around like a rag doll, sending bolts of pain through her upper body, her legs completely useless. She just wants it to be over, and she hopes she’s given Tavros a fighting chance at getting away and finding shelter. 

Tavros. 

_‘This must be how he feels.’_

When the sword is finally gone, Roxy is nearly faded. It’s sort of like when she blacks out from drinking, but she knows that she won’t be waking up in the Arena, or in her bed, or in the captivity of a Peacekeeper who found her passed out on the street. 

She smiles as the world starts going black without her eyes shutting. 

_‘I’m gonna see you, sis. It’s alright.’_

-

Dave can do a hundred meter sprint in about twelve seconds. 

He knows this, adds about three seconds to pick up the sword and bag laying a little to his left, and then he is ready to cut some people down. 

There’s another girl sprinting towards the same bag, the girl from Nine, and Dave picks up the pace, sliding in just before her and his hand closing around the handle of the katana. He swings up and slashes her across the chest, tearing her jacket and drawing a little blood. She cries out in pain, but she tackles him anyways, desperate for the supplies.

Shit, he wasn’t expecting that. They’re sitting ducks here, wrestling for control over this shitty sword. 

She’s got an arm around his throat, cutting off his windpipe from air, but he jabs a sharp elbow into her ribs again and again until she gives enough for him to get the sword out from under his body. He hits her in the face with his hand that has the weapon and she backs off, blood dripping from her nose and onto the grass and Dave’s hair. With a quick motion, he plunges the sword into her chest, wedging between ribs and puncturing a lung. He hears the breath leave her and her eyes gloss over, and she’s dead, bleeding all over the grass. Dave yanks the sword once, twice, three times before it comes out, and he grabs the bag and runs. 

One down, twenty two to go, and then he will be the next Victor. 

Dave heads for the trees, the backpack bouncing against his shoulder, his hands slippery with blood. He keeps the sword above his head to shield his sensitive eyes from the bright light and have it at the ready, poised to swing at a moment’s notice. It’s a long way to the trees, but Dave isn’t pursued as he makes his way into the forest at the base of the mountain. He finds a tree that he can climb, wipes his hands on his pants, and starts his ascent. When he makes it a decent way up, he stops and rests his back against the trunk, breathing hard. He can still make out the Cornucopia from this distance, the metal glittering in the light. Dave sighs with something akin to happiness. He managed to not only kill someone right at the start, but also get out of the bloodbath unscathed and with supplies and a weapon he is already skilled at using. Luck was on his side today. 

Dave decides to look through the bag that he managed to score. He finds a bottle for water, some iodine packs, a stone for sharpening his sword, and some dried fruit. Not exactly the jackpot, but it could be worse. He knows Bro had less on his first day, and he won, so Dave isn’t exactly worried. He’ll pick up more stuff as he hunts. Hell, maybe he’ll go back to the Cornucopia later tonight and see what he can scavenge. 

But for now, he’s going to wait and see what comes his way. Some poor soul might just wander under his tree. 

-

“You’re hurting my arm, asshole.”

Karkat releases Terezi’s arm, unaware of how long he had been gripping it or how hard.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and they continue walking, Terezi staying close to him as they follow Jade through the trees.

He has no idea what exactly had been going through his head the moment he grabbed her arm and dragged him after himself and Jade. Maybe he actually did have some sort of feelings of companionship towards her. Maybe he just felt sorry for her. Or maybe he wanted her along so he and Jade could ditch her when they needed to. 

_‘Oh shut up, that’s fucking sick.’_

After a while, they start slowing down, Terezi especially. She’s probably walked at least half a mile more than Karkat and Jade from stumbling around behind him. 

“Okay, let’s take a quick break and come up with a plan,” Karkat suggests, and the girls gladly comply. They set down the one bag they managed to grab before taking off for the woods. Jade sifts through it, listing off their assets. 

“So, we’ve got… a package of nuts, one of dried fruit…. A very, very small knife… wow, that’s pathetic… Uh, blowgun! That’s a plus. And the darts for it, too. And… what the hell is this?”

Jade pulled out a plastic jacket, big enough for at least two of them to be inside at the same time. 

“Rain jacket.” Karkat answers, giving her the jacket back. “I guess they’re anticipating a storm.”

Terezi snickers at him. “Yeah. Something like that. Or they could be dicks and not giving us anything really useful.”

“Or that,” Jade says, brushing off Terezi’s comment. “So, do you have a plan in mind, Karkat?”

“I’m working on it,” he snaps back, taking the knife from the bag and going off to find a perfect tree for what he has in mind. 

-

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

The canon shots echo through the arena, and it makes the hair on the back of Tavros’s neck stand up. 

He barely made it to the tree line and he’s already exhausted. At least he had been able to get away from the chaos and bloodshed that was the Cornucopia. That was a bonus. But now he is in the forest, it’s already past midday, he has no supplies, and he can’t even climb a tree to save his own skin. Tavros feels his eyes getting hot and he shuts them, refusing to cry. Crying was stupid and pointless, yet here he was. 

_‘I’m going to die, I’m going to—’_

“Hey, brother. You look a little sad.”

Tavros freezes, his heart beating furiously in his chest and his lungs clenching and his throat choking. Out of the shadows appears Gamzee, looming and lanky, a large bag slung over his narrow shoulder with the handles of metal clubs sticking out of it, a lance in his other hand, and a lazy smile on his face that Tavros isn’t sure was comforting or terrifying. 

“I—please! Don’t kill me!” 

Tavros’s face heats up in shame with the thought of his last moments of life being spent begging for mercy from a stranger. 

But Gamzee lets out a bone-chilling laugh and says, “Nah brother, I’m not gonna motherfuckin’ kill you. We’re bros, right? The merciful messiahs wouldn’t be too happy if I killed a motherfucker, would they?” 

“I… I guess n-not,” Tavros stutters, and he takes the heavy metal lance Gamzee hands him. “Thanks.”

“No problem, brother. Let’s get going before we run into some of those crazy fuckers like Ampora.”

And they left, Gamzee taking a slightly slower pace to accommodate for Tavros’s lag. Gamzee carried everything for them, and wouldn’t say what was inside. Tavros carried on behind him, using the lance as a walking stick to steady himself as they crunched through the underbrush. Tavros starts to feel a little better about running into Gamzee, that maybe his prospects of surviving has improved a little bit, but another tiny part of him thinks that maybe he’s being tricked and he’ll be left behind as bait while Gamzee makes a get away. So far, that didn’t seem likely, but Tavros wasn’t going to rule it out. He was pretty slow, after all. 

“Come on brother, we gotta find some motherfuckin’ shelter before night falls, otherwise these crazy fuckers are gonna come after us,” Gamzee says in the most encouraging way Tavros is sure is possible, and they continue trudging up and down the small hills of the forest. 

-

Jake isn’t sure how he managed it, but he somehow made it out of the Cornucopia alive. 

A lot of people did, actually. He only heard three canons when it was over, which he finds to be unusual. He had only managed to grab a very small bag before running, but it turned out to be a sleeping bag and two hunting knives, so it wasn’t a complete waste. In fact, he was feeling pretty good right now, though curious to where Terezi had gone. He had seen her during the countdown, she had been right next to them, and then… she had vanished. Jake hoped one of the canons wasn’t for her. 

Up ahead, Jake saw a rustling in a tree and dove under a bush for cover. He prayed it was only an animal, but then… what kind? And what would be worse, something with claws that could tear him to pieces, or another kid like him, armed to the teeth and seeking blood? 

But then a head of nearly white hair appears out of the greenery and Jake sees Dirk at the top of the tree, scanning the surrounding area. Jake stays motionless, hoping he is hidden well enough. He must have been, because soon enough, Dirk descends the tree and Jake hears him _thump_ to the ground and _crunch_ on through the trees. Very carefully, Jake pulls himself out of the bush and begins to follow the faint footsteps. 

-

So far, the Serket girl has proven to be more talk than action in Eridan’s point of view. 

She managed to only procure a small bag from the Cornucopia, and didn’t even make it up to the structure itself until long after himself and Quinnell arrived. While they had secured large weapons and lots of supplies, she had only a large dagger in a sheath, some iodine packets, and a blanket. She was small, a braggart, and overconfident, none of the things Eridan had really been expecting (well, except for the size issue). So Eridan was regretting his decision to ask her to join with himself and Quinnell by the time they were in the forest and stalking their first targets – Captor and Feferi. 

“Jegus, they’re in this huge group. Are you kidding me?” Serket muttered as they slipped along silently though the trees behind their prey. 

“Shut up, Serket, wwe’ll be fine,” Eridan hisses, gripping his harpoon tightly in his hands. They’re not terribly far away, and they don’t look nearly as well armed as himself and Quinnell, nor are any of them (with the exception of Feferi) probably skilled in combat. 

“There are five of them and three of us. This is suicidal.”

“Wwould you be quiet?”

“Shh.”

Quinnell shushes them before slipping to the next tree, slowly making her way towards their camp in the dying sunlight. Eridan follows after her, and then Serket, all closing in on different sides like they had planned. 

Eridan fleetingly hopes that Serket will get killed, just so he won’t have to deal with her any more. 

They match their pace to the sun, and by the time the three of them are in position to strike, the sun has almost completely set. There’s not much light to see by now, only the glowing flicker of their tiny fire they’ve made in the center of their camp. Eridan is closest to Captor and Feferi, while Quinnell and Serket are positioned to take out the other three. With any luck, this fight will go smoothly and there will be five less competitors for Eridan’s crown. 

Or maybe four. He hasn’t quite settled on what to do with Feferi quite yet. 

The moment the sun sets, they strike. In unity, Eridan, Quinnell and Serket all launch themselves from the trees there were hiding behind and into the group. 

But apparently, it was not entirely a surprise. 

Captor had out two sickles, slashing at Eridan as the taller boy leapt at him. Eridan dodged but stumbled, giving Feferi time to pick up her trident and roll away. Bleeding a little from his side, Eridan stands again and faces off against them, harpoon against trident against sickles, all three circling each other. 

“You sided with the wwrong Tribute, Feferi,” Eridan says, panting slightly. “You can still fix it, though. Come wwith us and wwe’ll keep you alive.”

“Fuck that, athhole,” Captor swears, his whole body tense. 

“Stay out of this!” Eridan yells. He doesn’t want to deal with this right now. “Feferi, come on.”

“Stop!” she pleads. 

“You shtupid athface, I could kill you with one hand behind my back,” Captor goads, a smug look on his face. 

“You’re at least a foot shorter than me, Captor,” Eridan retorts, readjusting his grip on his harpoon. 

_‘Wwait for it…’_

“Eridan, please! Just leave us alone, and we won’t bother you!” 

“You don’t have a change of winning, you schelf-schent—”

Eridan cries out in rage and charges Captor, his harpoon going straight through him and spraying Eridan and the ground with blood. Feferi screams and Eridan turns, rage consuming his every thought. He vaguely hears her yelling something about mercy and friendship, but he can’t hear it over his own ego, over his need to be the best, to prove himself. His vision is hazy as he finds one of the sickles and uses it against her, unable to stop himself from destroying something so beautiful. 

_Boom. Boom._

Eridan stops, the canons shaking him from his state of rage. He is panting, his hands shaking. 

“W-wwhat…”

He can’t finish his thought.

The sight below him is too bloody. 

Feferi’s fuchsia eyes are staring up at him, glossy and catching the light of the fire for themselves since they don’t have any more warmth of their own. Eridan’s breathing speeds up and his throat tightens as he silently screams. No, no, _no,_ this is all wrong, this shouldn’t have happened.

“Ampora.”

This wasn’t a part of the _plan._

_“Ampora.”_

He turns to see Quinnell and Serket, both bloody but Quinnell less so. Serket has half of her extensions missing. 

“They escaped. It’s Maryam, Lalonde, and the boy from Eight.”

“That’s fine, wwe’ll get them later,” Eridan says, standing up. He brings the fallen trident with him, leaving his harpoon imbedded in Captor. “Let’s get moving, wwe need to get awway from the bodies.”

As soon as they are out of the clearing, they head the swooping and feel the waves of rushing air from the transport that snatches the bodies off the earth, but all Eridan can really hear is Feferi’s screams and the sound of breath leaving her body in a gurgle of blood.

-

Aradia is sitting at the edge of a cave, watching the night sky. The stars she can see are bright, though she knows that they’re artificial. She’s only heard five canons today, and as the false moon approaches midnight, she wonders how many more she’ll hear tonight. 

Vagabond is sleeping near the back by the embers of the first that has long since run out of fuel, and Aradia wishes she could sleep that peacefully. She’ll be awake for a long while, too afraid to sleep for his sake. If only the bag she had grabbed had more than food... 

The Capitol’s song starts playing, and the emblem appears in the night sky. Time for the death toll. 

**DISTRICT 1: FEFERI PIXIES**

Already? A Career down in the first twelve hours? 

**DISTRICT 4: JANE CROCKER**

There must be some great killers out there if two Careers are down already. Or they were just weak this year. 

**DISTRICT 9: SOLLUX CAPTOR, PENNY MALLOY**

And the entirety of District Nine. 

**DISTRICT 10: ROXY POID**

There really wasn’t any hope there, but a chill still crawls down Aradia’s spine. These weren’t people she was expecting to die within the first few hours. The music stops, and Aradia feels a tug at her sleeve. It was Vagabond, who must have been awakened by the loud noise. 

“Five today, and some people I thought were going to make it longer,” Aradia says. “But it’s okay. I don’t think anyone is near us, so we’ll be okay. Go back to sleep.” 

She gives him a tight hug, but he refuses to go back until she joins him by the ashes and their bag. 

Vagabond drifts to sleep again fairly soon, but Aradia lies still, one eye open, praying for dawn and a little hope that they will survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the support so far! I'm trying to work on this story as much as possible in between school and work, so updates will be slow, but hopefully worth the wait. So again, I seriously appreciate your patience and support in this endeavor :)


	5. Part Four - Keep Your Enemies Closer

“Here.” 

Karkat hands Terezi his masterpiece when he gets back to their campsite. She and Jade have already eaten some meat (squirrel, by the looks of it) that Jade has caught and are preparing for a night in the trees. 

“What’s this thing, a stick?” Terezi asks, sniffing the piece of wood in her hands. 

“Yes, it’s a walking stick. So you know… you have something to help you keep balance with,” Karkat says, fumbling his words. Terezi snickers, but doesn’t say anything else. Karkat sits on the ground grumpily and eats his meager portion of food. At least it’s more than he would have eaten at home. 

“So… five down,” Jade says, breaking their silence. “And two of them are Careers.” 

“I’d love to know who killed them,” Terezi replies, setting the walking stick down next to her. She’s looking right at Jade while she speaks, and Karkat shivers a little. This chick has freaky-good senses. “I mean, it should be only fair. So we can watch our backs better.”

“Yeah, who knows, maybe you killed them while we weren’t looking,” Karkat mutters half-jokingly. 

“Maybe.” Terezi grins at him, and he turns away from her. 

“Whatever. I’m going to sleep.” Karkat grabs what is his and starts to climb a tree that looks somewhat more comfortable than the ground. 

“Cool. I’ll wake you when my watch is over,” Jade says, and she begins to do the same. Unsurprisingly, Terezi climbs a tree of her own with ease and skill and falls asleep far before Karkat can even think of closing his eyes. 

-

It’s not until the small hours of the morning that Rose even thinks about leading them back into danger. 

Herself, Kanaya, and John quietly make their way back towards their original campsite shortly before dawn, taking care not to draw attending to themselves. Ampora and his companions had left everything untouched after they had attacked them, and so it was time to reclaim their property. More importantly, they wanted to get Feferi and Sollux’s weapons, which would be better served by the surviving group rather than lying on the forest floor. Still, they had to be careful to make sure that Ampora’s group wasn’t close by, waiting to strike again. 

“Coast is clear.”

Kanaya jumps down from the tree where she had been scouting, and Rose nods. John’s grip tightens on his sledgehammer. He looks the most sleep deprived out of the three of them, but then again, Rose can’t exactly see herself right now. She doesn’t _feel_ tired yet, just very alert and focused. Kanaya doesn’t even seem sleepy, just calm and driven like she always is. 

“Let’s move.” 

They creep closer to the clearing, constantly checking around them for signs of life. There are none, and in the middle of the grass is just their burnt out coals and bloodstains from the fight. They circle around the area one more time to make sure they won’t get jumped, then they dart in to grab what they can. The sleeping bag and the trident are both missing, but Sollux’s sickles are lying in the grass, one of the blades tinted with a little blood. Rose picks them up, cleans them off on her shirt, and then nods again. They leave hastily, and don’t talk until they’re almost half a mile away from the clearing. 

“We’re going to have to be a lot more careful,” Rose finally says, her voice a little hoarse. “I personally don’t want to have any more encounters like that.”

“Yeah, because watching our friends get killed is just the best,” John weakly jokes, panting a little from trying to keep up with the girls. “Can we find somewhere to nap? I’m about to drop.”

“Let’s get a little further away,” Kanaya suggests, and so they do, walking for an additional mile before they climb some trees just as the sun begins rising. John picks a spot in the shade and falls asleep almost immediately, clutching his small bag to his chest. Rose takes longer to drift off, but Kanaya is wide awake on guard duty, eyes constantly sweeping the forest floor for any sign of enemies. 

-

Tavros yawns, tired from his shift of keeping watch. It’s nearing dawn, and he wants to catch a little more sleep before he and Gamzee move on. Their plan so far is to keep on the move and avoid enemies, since Tavros can’t really fight and Gamzee doesn’t feel like it. They’ve done well so far, so much so that Tavros is a little concerned. Surely they would have run into at least one other person by now? Even if there were five people dead already, that still left nineteen Tributes. 

Tavros shivers a little from both cold and fear before standing awkwardly to go wake up Gamzee. He takes up his lance and he shuffles over to his companion, poking him gently with the end of the pole. “G-Gamzee, it’s almost dawn.” 

“Mmm? Is it?” Gamzee mumbles, rolling over and rubbing his eyes. He has dark circles under them, which have only gotten worse with the little sleep they’ve had so far in the arena. “A’righ’ brother, give me a sec to get motherfuckin’ woke up, and you can have a nap.”

Tavros sighs and sits back down on the patch of grass where he was sleeping before Gamzee had awoken him for the death toll. He keeps a hand on the shaft of his lance as he lets his eyes close, wanting to be ready for anything should they have to run or fight. It takes forever to fall asleep, however, because Gamzee is mumbling and shuffling about, unable to stand in one place for too long. Tavros almost wishes he would leave, but then where would that leave himself? Alone and unable to defend himself properly, that’s where. So he just rolls over and tries his hardest to tune out Gamzee’s under-breathed babbling. 

-

At dawn, Dave sets out again. He starts making a loop around the field where the Cornucopia sits, checking the outskirts. He can’t see into the structure itself, but it looks like it’s devoid of people. Dave doesn’t want to risk being seen, however, so he decides to save going back for more supplies for nightfall. Instead, he continues south towards the river he can see in the distance with white rocks on its bank. He wades across it at the lowest point possible and then makes for the trees again, climbing up into a sturdy one and looking for places to start jumping. He secures his katana to his belt and then starts crawling out on a branch towards the next tree. Dave continues like this for a while, trying to be as quiet as possible. It would be unprofessional if his excellent hiding spot were given away by something so stupid as being noisy. 

Finally, he sees someone, and his senses go into overdrive hunting mode. This was it, his second kill. He crept onto the next tree, one fairly close to her where he could jump down and surprise her at the opportune moment. She’s tiny, too, it probably won’t take that much effort on his part. He tenses his body, ready to strike, his legs aching to spring—

“There you are. I thought I told you not to wander off.”

Dave immediately throws himself into the tree trunk and out of sight. The huge guy from Four appeared through the trees, two bottles of water in his hands and a large knife hanging off his belt. 

“I’m sorry Equius, but I found some food we can eat! Look, I used to find these berries in the forest at home all the time,” the girl says, showing him something in her hands. She must be from a lower District. 

“We can eat them later. Let’s get back to camp.”

He slings her up over his shoulder and carries her off piggy-back style, leaving Dave up in a tree with his heart beating furiously in his chest. Nope, that would have been a terrible idea. He didn’t think he could even take Equius alone, at least not now. Maybe later, when Equius was tired and Dave was better armed. Maybe he could make a trap for them. But for now, he started climbing back the way he came, away from Equius and the tiny girl. He would find a better target for now, someone he knows he can take down successfully. 

-

“Jegus, can we just stop moving for two seconds?”

Vriska stops in her tracks from between Eridan and Quinnell, making Eridan huff in annoyance. 

“You knoww, wwhen I asked you to be part of our group, I wwasn’t expecting a wwhiny little girl,” Eridan snarls, but Vriska just rolls her eyes as she takes out her knife. 

“Just shut up and give me a few to cut the rest of this out. At least you didn’t get half your hair ripped out by some fashionista bitch.” Vriska holds out the last bit of her extensions from the Capitol and proceeds to saw at them with her blade. “And besides, if we hadn’t been holding off the rest of the group, you would have been dead. So just calm the fuck down and get off your high horse, Ampora.”

Eridan is growling, but he doesn’t say anything. Vriska finishes cutting off the fake hair and throws it to the ground. Even if her hair now looks stupid, at least it won’t get in her way anymore. But she wishes she had some sort of painkillers, because the part of her head where Maryam ripped out the extensions was still throbbing like she had been scalped. 

“Bitch,” Eridan mutters before he starts walking away again. Vriska snarls and starts to make a leap for him, but Quinnell grabs her by the collar of her shirt and holds her back. 

“What did you say to me?” Vriska yells, teeth barred and knuckles white from gripping the knife too hard. 

“I said, b—”

“Enough.” Quinnell’s voice stops them both, and they let their guard down at the same time. Vriska sheaths her knife with a suspicious eye on Eridan, yanking herself free from Quinnell’s grip. 

“Watch yourself, Ampora,” she snarls, and she walks past him to lead them on through the forest. 

_‘Because I’m going to put my knife in your chest when you least expect it.’_

-

“I’m going to go get us some more food and firewood.”

Aradia hates leaving him alone, but she has to. She would rather have him stay safe without her than come with her and run the risk of being hunted. 

Vagabond is hanging onto the knee of her pants with a small hand, not wanting to let go. She sighs and drops down in front of him to look him in the eyes. 

“You’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll be back before night falls. Now, you remember how I taught you to fight someone?”

He nods and holds up the rock he’s holding in his other hand. It’s almost too big for his grip, but it’ll do when he has to strike someone in the kneecaps in order to escape. 

Aradia smiles. “Good.” She hugs him tight and he does the same to her, each not wanting to let the other go but knowing they have to. “Alright. I’ll be back. I love you.” She kisses his forehead and stands, walking away without looking back because if she does, she knows he will see the fear that’s on her face. 

-

Jake is actually impressed with himself. He has managed to keep track of Dirk all through the night and into the day, following far enough behind that he can always find him, but not so much that he will be caught. So far, they haven’t run into anyone else, which is good. If Jake had to unexpectedly fight off some other Tribute, he would run the risk of either being caught by Dirk or completely losing track of him. 

Dirk is still up in the trees and Jake follows on the ground, watching for the telltale branch shaking that alerts him to Dirk’s position. But then… 

There’s a lot of commotion in the branches where Dirk was, followed by a thud. No way. No, no, there’s _no way_ Dirk just _lost his balance and fell_ , he’s a Career, he’s the best, he’s—

On the ground, right where Jake expects to find him. 

Dirk is lying there, pulling a dart out of his arm, his leg at a slightly funny angle. He’s breathing hard, and his face is screwed up in pain underneath his askew sunglasses. Jake isn’t sure if he should approach him or not, but he starts checking the trees around them to see if he can find whoever shot Dirk. He pulls a knife out and holds it at the ready, searching everywhere frantically. 

“You gonna finish me off or what?”

Jake jumps out of his skin when he hears Dirk’s voice. “I—I, what?”

Dirk laughs slightly through sharp breaths. “I mean, I thought you would be the least of my worries, but then you started following me so I wasn’t so sure any more…”

Jake feels his face heat up as he pushes his was cautiously towards Dirk. “I thought I… uh…”

“Were being super sneaky? That’s adorable,” Dirk says, readjusting his glasses just as Jake comes into view. Jake doesn’t know what to say, he just keeps checking the surroundings. 

“Why are you following me?”

Dirk is sitting up now, poking at his leg and wincing. He gently pulls up his left pant leg to inspect his shin, which Jake can see is already bruising quite deeply. “Can you wiggle your toes?” Jake asks quietly, completely forgetting about Dirk’s question. 

“Let’s check,” Dirk says, readjusting his glasses so Jake can’t see his eyes any more. He tries and ends gasping in pain again. “That’s a negative. So, since my leg is broken, do you plan on actually finishing me off, or are you going to let me die slowly? Because that’s fucked up man, I’d rather you—”

“I’m not going to kill you!” Jake yelped, slapping his free hand over his mouth the second he was done. He breathed deeply, trying to get control over his nerves as Dirk looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “I… I was just following you because… I thought we could… uh, team up?”

Dirk started laughing and wheezing, and Jake chuckled nervously. “Alright, sure. I’m dead weight now anyways, but if you really want to carry my ass to death, be my guest Jake English.” 

Jake isn’t sure if he’s kidding or not, but he mumbles, “Alright, I’m going to get some wood to make you a splint,” and gives Dirk the other knife off his belt and shrugs off the sleeping bag on his back for him before walking into the nearby bushes to find a sturdy stick for Dirk’s leg. 

-

“Shit, shit, _shit._ ”

Jade rarely swore, and it was only when she was alone, but this was a special circumstance. 

“What? Did you get attacked?” Terezi asks, turning to face her. She’s holding the walking stick, a knife tied to the end of it with some rope. 

“No, I just… well, I _thought_ I killed him, but then this other kid showed up, and…”

“Who did you go after?” Karkat pips up from the ground where he was sitting. 

“That Career, Dirk,” Jade responds, replacing the blowgun and extra darts carefully in the small bag. “I shot him and he fell, but this other kid, I think from Six maybe, showed up so I couldn’t finish him off, and I don’t _think_ they saw me, but—”

“Was this kid kind of burly and smelled like dweeb?” Terezi asks, her curiosity piqued. 

“I guess? I’m not really sure how that’s a smell.”

“Yeah, that’s Jake. He’s from my District. I’m not terribly surprised that he’s following a Career around, he’s that kind of guy. We don’t need to worry about them. Chances are, Dirk broke something falling out of a tree. Besides, Jake is a coward.”

Karkat and Jade exchange looks of uncertainty, but Jade says, “Alright. Let’s move anyways, I’d rather put some distance between our groups, just in case.”

“Whatever. Lead the way, Fruity Rumpus Asshole Factory,” she chuckles, giving Karkat a wicked grin. 

-

It’s late afternoon, and Dave has made it about halfway around the circle of the Cornucopia. He still hasn’t seen anyone else since Equuis and the smaller girl, which he guesses isn’t surprising. If he was a normal Tribute, he would want to get as far away from the Cornucopia as possible.

But Dave doesn’t consider himself a normal Tribute. Dave is a hunter, a winner. 

Then he notices some movement off to his left, and a shadowy figure darting through the bushes near the edge of the forest, and Dave sets off, climbing across branches and even daring to jump between a few. He finally makes it nearer to the figure, a girl with long black hair, and watches as she looks around. Then she bolts for it, running right towards Dave’s tree. He only has milliseconds to make a very risky snap decision, but he chooses the more harmful: He leaps out of the tree, arms outstretched, like a panther pouncing its prey. 

Dave tackles the girl to the ground, feeling something crack beneath him and knocking the wind out of both parties. Dave tries to scramble for his katana, but the girl sends an elbow back and up into his ribs, making him roll off of her with a grunt. She gets up a lot faster than him and start running again, clutching her side while she flees. Dave does a track start off the ground and sprints after her, pulling his katana while he runs. She’s just slightly ahead of him, but she’s injured and Dave knows he’s faster, so he wills himself to pick up the pace. They’re about to reach the Cornucopia when Dave extends his sword in front of himself and charges like it’s a lance. She tries to dodge out of his way, but it’s too late, the sword is going into her back, just right of her spine, and they collide into the side of the Cornucopia, Dave’s sword bends and snaps against the metal of the Cornucopia, their bodies both slamming into the structure making a great _clang_ that resonates perfectly with the _BOOM_ of the canon…

“Stupid—” _Yank._ “—fucking—” _Yank._ “—shitty—” _Yank._ “—sword!” 

With the last tug, Dave gets the remnants of his sword out of the girl. It had snapped clean in half, and he wiped the blood off of the broken blade before he sheathed it. He grabbed a nearby bag of dried fruit before dashing off again for the woods, too scared about the commotion he has caused attracting other Tributes to bother grabbing anything else. 

-

The canon rings in Tavros’ ears. He and Gamzee have been walking all day, and they _still_ haven’t come across anyone. They were fortunate enough to come across a small stream of water, which they drank from and bathed in a little before moving on. Gamzee didn’t seem terribly bothered by the canon or their lack of encounters, and had actually grown quiet in the past hour. Tavros found this almost more troubling than anything else so far. What if he wasn’t that carefree after all? How long would it take for him to kill Tavros? Would Tavros be able to get away before that crossed Gamzee’s mind? Furthermore, how long would Tavros last without him? 

“Let’s stop here.” 

It’s the first sentence Gamzee had spoken in a while, and Tavros obeys without question. He is trying the cautious route, hoping that if he stays out of Gamzee’s way, Gamzee will almost forget he is there. 

They set up camp quickly, and Gamzee offers to take the watch for the night. 

“A-are you sure?” Tavros asks tentatively, gripping his lance tightly. 

“Yes. I’m not going to be able to sleep for a while,” Gamzee replies shortly. “I’ll keep watch.” 

“O-okay. Thank you.”

They make camp and eat some food before the light completely dies out. Tavros sets up his sleeping bag facing Gamzee’s back. Some part of him is deeply paranoid, and he lies there for what seems like years, waiting for Gamzee to approach and slit his throat while Tavros watches his companion through barely open eyes. But Gamzee is motionless, and Tavros is almost starting to drift to sleep when a _BOOM_ nearby shakes him to the core and tenses all his muscles at once. 

“And another one down,” he hears Gamzee mutter, a sinister edge on his voice. 

It’s enough to keep Tavros up all night long. 

-

“This is good. Wwe’ll set up here.” 

Vriska looks around, dumbfounded. “What? This is shit. We’re like, begging to get jumped right here.”

The sun has practically set, and _this asshole_ decides that a large clearing by some water is the best place for camp? Did he not study the survival skills during training? Or ever?

“It’s right next to the wwater, you idiot,” Ampora growls, starting to set up camp. 

Oh no. No more of this shit. “Really? I didn’t notice. But don’t worry, I’ll be over _there_ , in the _trees_ , so that I don’t get jumped.” Vriska is pointing a boney finger up to the underbrush, where they _should_ have been sleeping this entire time. 

“Wwhatewer,” Ampora scoffs, trying to get his gear set up while Quinnell just stands by, watching the two argue. 

“ _Wwhatewer,_ ” Vriska imitates snidely, turning away to head up the tree.

Without warning, Vriska was struck to the ground as Eridan threw a fist at her head. She stumbles, one hand resting on her head when she has been hit, the other going to draw her dagger. Ampora is shaking with rage, his fist red from where he hit her. He just barely manages to dodge Vriska’s dagger as she spins and slashes at him, growling like a feral animal. 

“Wwhat’s the matter Serket? Is that the best you can do?” Ampora mocks, trying desperately to control his stammer. 

“Coward!” Vriska roars, lunging, feinting, and landing a hit, dragging her dagger down his forearm. “Only cowards attack an opponent when their back is turned!” 

Eridan whips the trident off his back, seething with rage. Vriska recognizes that look in his eyes and feels her skin crawl: it’s one of murder. There’s no going back now. 

Vriska jumps back as Eridan starts jabbing at her, trying to skewer her on the spikes. She looks around feverishly, but the only thing that might save her now is Quinnell, and it doesn’t look like she wants to intervene this time. So Vriska just keeps circling Eridan, dagger held at the ready, keeping light on her feet so she can dodge all of his wild thrusts. She leads him over to a tree, one barb finally catching her sleeve and ripping it, damaging her robotic arm. Vriska tries desperately to keep focus as her arms starts to malfunction, and Eridan is getting closer and closer to hitting her, when finally—

Vriska ducks at the last second and Eridan’s trident goes right into a tree. She almost can’t believe he fell for that again, and yet, she totally can. Eridan tries desperately to yank out his weapon, but it’s no good. Just as he’s going in for another tug, Vriska’s dagger finds his stomach. Eridan makes a chocking noise as his eyes go wide and his hands go rigid on the hilt of the trident. Vriska stands on her tiptoes and drags the knife up with her, gutting Eridan, as she leans up to his ear. 

“ _Coward._ ”

Eridan’s body goes limp as the canon sounds. 

-

Rose has had the group sitting in the trees for almost half an hour, and she knows they’re all getting stiff, but she heard something. She _knows_ she did. The recent canon and the sun descending hasn’t made her any less on edge, either. 

“Rose? Can we get down now?” John asks her in a loud whisper from the tree off to her left. She just shakes her head, pressing a finger to her lips. Kanaya is silent, watching around them with alert eyes. 

Then, just yards behind them, they hear talking. 

“Jegus, Terezi, could you just walk a little quieter?”

“I would if I could _see where I was going,_ asshole.”

“Guys, _seriously,_ shut up.”

Rose doesn’t really recognize the voices, but one of them must be that Terezi girl, the blind one. It was kind of a miracle she was still alive. 

“Okay, who’s up there?” 

Rose sees her companions tense up and she feels the hair on the back of her neck prickle. There’s no way they can be seen, the underbrush is just too thick, even if they were right under them.

“What? Who are you talking to?”

“Whoever is up in the trees. I can smell them.”

Rose’s muscles tense as she starts formulating a plan to get them out of there, but her brain stops when Kanaya speaks up.

“Who are you? Go away, we’re armed.”

Rose hears a muffled laugh from Terezi. “Yeah, okay. So are we. But as long as you’re not douche canoes, how about we stick together for tonight? Unless you really want to kill us, then by all means, do so—”

“Terezi!” 

“—we’re pretty easy targets from where you are.”

Rose glanced at Kanaya and John. Kanaya nods and John shrugs his shoulders, and Rose sighs in agreement. It doesn’t actually sound like anyone is very armed, so why not? Kanaya climbs down first, then Rose, and finally John. 

Terezi is in the middle, her eyes gazing off in no particular direction, milky and ghostly. Her companions are the two kids from District Twelve, the angry ginger and the other glasses kid. Everyone is dwarfed by Kanaya, so Rose figures joining up with them wouldn’t be a bad idea for a while. They introduce themselves, which everyone does pretty easily except the ginger, Karkat. He seems very surly about the whole situation, but he keeps his grumbling under his breath while Jade and John start to figure out some food rations and Kanaya and Rose begin to lay tripwire traps around their campsite. 

“We’ll stay the night in the trees, of course,” Kanaya explains, “but this will help. We can catch and kill any intruders, rather than it being the reverse.”

Rose waits until they are out of earshot of the others before asking her question. “So, how long do you think this will last? I mean, understand why we’re teaming up. Even if we’re weaker, a big group will deter people. But… for how long?”

“I don’t anticipate all of us making it for very long,” Kanaya answers with complete sincerity. “Which is unfortunate, but that’s the nature of the game. However, we might as well make good use of the advantage while we have it.”

Rose couldn’t argue with logic like that. She smiled slightly. “Yeah. It’ll be the best shot we have.”

-

Vriska’s arm has almost completely lost its usefulness. 

Sure, she can move her elbow and shoulder around, but without the functionality of her fingers, the hunk of metal is essentially just that – a hunk of metal dangling off her body. 

She and Quinnell have continued moving through the night, eager both to get away from Ampora’s body and to find some new meat to kill. They haven’t talked once since Vriska suggested they keep moving, which is a little unsettling to Vriska. She isn’t sure if Quinnell plans on killing her in her sleep, or if Vriska will just be a distraction if they run across someone strong so Quinnell can escape, or if she too is really glad Eridan is gone. They’re at a stalemate, and Vriska is almost positive one of them was going to try and kill the other at some point if they didn’t come across someone soon. 

They halt as they hear the sound of an explosion way in the distance, and tumbling rocks like a landslide. It’s off to the northeast of them, towards the lone, looming mountain. 

Then a canon fires. 

Vriska can’t help by smile as they continue on. 

One more step closer to victory. 

-

Jake lies on the ground near Dirk, staring up at the sky through the gap in the branches above them. Dirk is in a feverous sleep, sweating despite the wet cloth on his forehead. Jake turns his head and looks over at his companion. Dirk’s leg is still tied in a pretty shoddy splint, and his skin has paled considerably. The prick on his skin from the dart has bruised, and it looks like it’s only gotten bigger. 

Jake sighs and stretches his arms over his head, returning his gaze to the stars. His muscles are already stiff from helping Dirk walk all day, and he’s sure it’ll be worse in the morning. 

_‘I just need to watch the count. Then I can sleep.’_

As if on cue, the Capitol’s music started playing. Jake hears Dirk grunt next to him, but he doesn’t turn over. 

**DISTRICT TWO: ERIDAN AMPORA**

Jake would be lying to himself if he said this didn’t make him feel better. Though, he does wonder who was able to actually kill him? It must have been that huge guy from Four. 

**DISTRICT SEVEN: ABNER DUNCAN**

What? Was that Renegade? He was just a District under Jake, and Jake thought he would make it to the endgame. He was a good shot with a bow, and seemed pretty ruthless.

**DISTRICT ELEVEN: ARADIA MEGIDO**

Wasn’t she the girl who was with that little, _little_ kid? Jake had certainly noticed him, because he really didn’t look old enough, and he clung to the girl like she was his sister or mom or something. Whatever their relationship, Jake couldn’t help the ache he felt in his heart for the two. Who knew how long the kid would last now?

“Who was it?”

Dirk’s voice was hoarse and Jake jumped a little, but Dirk couldn’t see it. “Eridan Ampora, the dude from seven, and the girl from eleven.”

Dirk chuckled a little. “Serves Ampora right. Stuck up bastard.”

Without any more conversation, Dirk fell back asleep. Jake, however, lay there awake until dawn, wondering what his life would have been like with siblings, if he would have been married, and what he would have done with his life if he hadn’t been chosen for the games. 

-

The sound of the Capitol’s anthem woke Vagabond up, but he didn’t look outside the cave for at least another half hour after that. He had only heard three canon shots that day, and sure, Aradia wasn’t back yet, but she would be. Maybe she got caught up getting food and just had to wait until morning to come back. 

After all, she _promised_ he would be safe. There was no way she _wasn’t_ coming back.

Vagabond finally decides to rekindle the fire like Aradia had shown him to do and starts walking around the cave and just outside its mouth, looking for rocks. After almost an hour, he has amassed a small army of rocks just outside the cave and sits down in the dirt, the light from the tiny fire dancing on the walls. He starts methodically arranging rocks based on size, shape, and texture, occasionally going to throw one out but taking another look at it and resorting it among its brethren. 

Back at home, toys were scarce and the time to play was even scarcer. But on the odd day he _did_ have off, Vagabond would search through the trashcans around the neighborhood for old cans and play Can Town, a game he invented where he was the Mayor and the cans were his buildings, and other objects his townspeople. Vagabond thought himself a very kind and giving Mayor, not at all like the people who ran his town in District Eleven. In Can Town, everyone had just enough to eat, a good place to sleep, and time to hang out with friends and family after a long day’s work. 

Now, Vagabond didn’t have any cans, but the rocks he found did just fine. The bigger rocks were the houses and businesses, (though he allocated the biggest rock for his Mayor house), and little pebbles were his people. 

The sky began to lighten, his fire died, and yet Vagabond kept playing, immensely caught up in his world of Can (Rock) Town. Mr. and Mrs. Sand were expecting a child any time now, and he had to keep up with his Mayor-ly duties and pay them a visit before the youngster was born. 

The sun started to rise, but Vagabond ignored it. In the back of his mind, he though he should maybe go inside, but that was silly. Aradia would be home soon now that the sun was up. 

Just as Vagabond was checking up on Mr. and Mrs. Sand, a tall, lanky, club-wielding shadow covered Can Town in darkness. Vagabond looked up to see who it was, but he couldn’t see their face. 

_BOOM._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (holy crap it's finally up)  
> I'm hoping to have this story finished this year, which for me, will be a feat. But we can do that, right?
> 
> If you have any questions about me, the fic, want to remind me to update, ect, there are links on my profile about how you can do so :)
> 
> And thanks for everyone sticking with us for this long! It makes all three of us really happy :)


	6. Part Five - I'm Going Slightly Mad

A canon at daybreak is not the most encouraging noise, so team Rose and Karkat moves north now, aiming to loop west around the single mountain and camp out behind it, maybe make it their last stand. It seems like the most logical choice, since other teams were likely to keep nearer to the Cornucopia. The meadow made for a sort of standoff Rose is sure at least a few Tributes will engage in, keeping watch for competition yet too afraid to step out and be hunted themselves. 

And now another one is dead. 

“Who do you think it was?” Jade asks Karkat as they walk together at the back of the group. 

“I’m betting Dirk,” Karkat responds, wheezing a little as they clamber on. “It has to be. You shot him in the neck, right?” 

“Yeah…” Jade’s voice trails off, but she doesn’t sound terrible convinced. 

“Look, don’t worry about it. The canon sounded far off,” Karkat says. “And besides, even if we _were_ to run in to someone, they’d have to be fucking deranged to attack us. There’s what, six of us?”

“Yeah, but look at us.” Jade gestures to the rest of the group that walks ahead of them. “We’re… _pathetic._ ” She drops her voice lower. “Come on. A blind girl? Bucktooth and then you, who are tiny? I guess we’ve got Rose, whose mom was a Victor, but really, that just makes her even more of a target. And she doesn’t even sound like she wants to try and win.”

“We’re fucked,” Karkat agrees, growling a little. “God, we are so boned. Like, fucked up—”

“Yes, we get it.” Terezi interrupts them without turning her head. “We’re all going to die. Now can you please shut up so I can concentrate on where I’m walking?”

Karkat and Jade stop talking after that, but only after sharing a glance that clearly defines their thoughts – they made a terrible mistake teaming up with other people.

-

‘ _They’re so loud,_ ’ Vriska notes to herself, smirking. Quinnell and herself have been stalking a group since early morning. Part of it consists of Tributes from the first group they attacked with Ampora: Lalonde, Maryam, and the dweeb whose name Vriska still hadn’t bothered learning. Then there were the two Tributes from Twelve, and the blind girl, Pyrope. 

What a bunch of losers.

Their heavy footsteps crack through the undergrowth, making following the larger group very easy. And Vriska and Quinnell, having being trained in tracking, are exceptionally quiet in comparison. The duo can hear every word, every step of their prey. It’s really only a matter of time before they strike, but only after luring the weaklings into a false sense of security. 

Quinnell signals to Vriska and they ascended some trees close by to where the group is taking a rest. After clambering up the tree, Vriska pulls out one of the rolls she had acquired from Ampora’s bag and munches it while she watches the group through the branches. They are so naïve, thinking they would be safe in numbers. No one is safe in this game, not even Vriska. But at least she recognizes this, playing it to her advantage, turning others arrogance and caution against them. _This_ is how the game could be won – through calculated coldness. 

Vriska finishes her meal and gets comfortable on the branch. With the sun starting to fall, it’s unlikely the group is going to be moving much more. Now isn’t quite the time to strike. Vriska can sense that the prey was still on some semblance of alert, and she wants them to be completely defenseless. With the remaining sunlight, Vriska attempts to find a way to fix her arm, planning her exact attack strategy in the back of her mind. 

-

Jake has been carrying Dirk through the day and now into the approaching night. They had talked a little, but it proved impossible to keep up conversation while trying to carry another (taller) person through the rough terrain of forest and mountain. 

“Let’s stop for the night. You look tired,” Dirk says, chuckling weakly. Jake didn’t bother to respond, just helps Dirk sit against a tree before collapsing on the ground. He’s hungry and exhausted, but can’t even imagine how Dirk must be feeling with his broken leg. He glances up at Dirk, and maybe it’s the fading light, but Dirk looks supernatural, his skin green and yellow and sweaty, and the puncture in his neck from the dart was nearly black. 

“Me? Tired? Not a chance,” Jake jokes, propping himself up on his elbows. “How’s your neck doing?” 

“I… it’s fine,” Dirk says, his breathing getting noticeably harder. “My leg is killer, but it’s no big deal.”

Jake frowns a little, but choses not to argue with Dirk. “Okay. I’m going to scrounge around for some dinner and maybe firewood.”

“No fire, just food,” Dirk says, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the tree. He looks somehow still beautiful, despite his discoloring. Jake stands up and stretches his aching back. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in just a minute,” he assures Dirk, but Dirk only nods at him. 

Jake doesn’t think he’s gone very long, but the sun is almost completely set when he gets back to camp. The twilight makes it very hard to see what types of plants are around, but Jake has enough experience with them that he’s able to pick some berries and grasses that should prove to be nutritious. 

“Dirk? I’m back,” Jake asks the motionless figure leaning against the tree. Dirk’s breath wheezes as he tries to respond, and Jake drops his small collection of plants to the ground. 

“Dirk? _Dirk?_ ” He drops to his knees at Dirk’s side, but Dirk doesn’t respond. Jake can see his chest rising and falling laboriously, and starts to panic. “No, Dirk! You can’t die!” What should he do? Jake doesn’t know any real sort of first aid, or how to deal with poison. Poison, that’s the only possible explanation. Jake frantically searches his mind for some tid-bit of knowledge, but he can’t come up with anything. “ _Somebody help!_ ” he screams out, tears starting to blur his eyes and mucus clogging his throat. Maybe by some miracle someone will send him antidote. Dirk should live. Dirk should be a winner. He was born to do it. “ _Take me instead! Just help!_ ” Jake’s cries are completely futile. 

He starts to look around wildly, searching for any type of plant that may slow the toxin. He scrambles around on his hands and knees, sharp sticks and needles imbedding themselves in his skin, and finds something he thinks might work. He remembers faintly a woman in his town putting plants on someone who had been poisoned and it helped stop it in their veins. Now Jake thought these leaves looked like the right shape, but he’s in such hysteria that he doesn’t care and rips off an entire branch from the bush before crawling back to Dirk. 

“Hey, I’m going to lay you down now,” Jake says, his voice shaking. He grabs Dirk by the shoulders and drops him unceremoniously to the ground, wincing when Dirk’s head hits Jake’s knee. Jake tilts Dirk’s head to get a better angle and starts pressing the leaves to Dirk’s wound, praying it will work. Then he searches his bag for his water, and tips some into Dirk’s mouth. Half of it runs off of Dirk’s cheek, and Jake sees a tear drip off his own nose to join the lost water. 

“Please Dirk, you can’t leave me alone. You’re supposed to win, not me.” 

Jake can’t help but continuing to cry through the night, intermittently changing the leaves on Dirk’s neck. 

-

Tavros and Gamzee hadn’t traveled very far that day, and after the first canon at daybreak, the day had been unnervingly quiet. Now Tavros was lying in another clearing, staring up at the stars, trying to sleep while Gamzee muttered in his sleep. Just as Tavros was trying to figure out what time it was, the Capitol’s anthem started playing and the death toll began. 

**DISTRICT ELEVEN: WILLIAM VAGABOND**

It was that tiny little kid, the one who didn’t even talk in his interview. And after that canon had gone off… oh no. Oh no. 

“Gonna get me… some mother _fucker…_ ”

Gamzee is talking clearer now, and Tavros turn his head in terror. 

Gamzee had killed that kid. And now, Tavros was sure he was next. 

“…fucking… _kill_ you… running blood…”

Tavros is shaking so hard his teeth clatter. He’s only ever been this scared a few times in his life, and he’s paralyzed. Gamzee’s face looks skeletal, his bone protruding under thin, pale skin that the moonlight accentuates. He’s muttering still about blood and murder, hands twitching like he’s about to wrap long fingers around a delicate throat. Tavros’s blood is racing, pulsing in his ears. What should he do? He can’t possibly survive on his own, not with his legs, but if he stay’s with Gamzee, he’s sure to be killed by sunrise. Gamzee isn’t taking being in the arena very well. His true colors are showing, and Tavros is terrified by them. 

“ _Taaaaaavrooooooos…_ ” 

That’s it. Gamzee’s voice is lower, even in his sleep, and sounds absolutely homicidal. As quietly as he can, Tavros starts to try and stand up, fingers crawling towards his spear to help him off the ground. He gets to his knees and uses the end of the weapon to heave himself up, his knees wobbling under his pathetic weight. He starts backing away as quietly as he can, pausing when he snaps a small stick. He shuts his eyes, preparing to die, but Gamzee just keeps muttering. His breath still caught in his throat, Tavros continues backing away until he’s into the trees, and then makes a run for it. He’s smashing through the bushes, trying to be quiet but more concerned about getting as far away from Gamzee as possible. He hasn’t even been running for five minutes when he hears a stomach-churning scream from where he had fled. 

“ _Where are you, Tavros?_ ” Gamzee shrieks, laughing while he starts tramping through the trees, chasing after Tavros’s clamor. Tavros stops and throws himself against a tree, attempting to quiet his furious breathing. He glances up, sees a branch above his head, and makes a snap decision. Tavros has never climbed a tree before, but now seems like a mighty fine time to learn. He hoists himself up after throwing his spear to the side, praying that Gamzee won’t find it. He only makes it up two more branches before Gamzee is bursting through the bushes below him. 

“Where did you go, Tavros? Your blood smells sweet, can I taste it? That boy was so delicious… blood all over the rocks… got my _eyyyyyye_ on you…” 

Tavros is holding his breath, clutching the tree so hard the bark digs into his already bleeding palms. ‘ _Please don’t let him find me, please, please, I’m begging you, oh God keep him away from me._ ’

“TAVROS!” 

Gamzee’s scream is so loud it rings in Tavros’s ears, but he holds on tight and Gamzee moves on, crashing around and screaming horrible things that Tavros can’t even understand anymore. The words all jumble together in his ears and Tavros lets out a whimper while he clings to the tree, wanting nothing more than for the sun to rise and for it to all be over. Gamzee’s voice finally begins to fade away, but his words replay over and over in Tavros’s head so much that it’s like he never left. 

-

Vriska’s eye flick open at the sound of the screaming. She hadn’t heard a canon, so at first she’s confused. Surely someone hadn’t died, so who was approaching? They were really freaking loud, crashing around through the bushes like a maniac, not caring whether they were heard or not. Reckless idiot. 

It took a while, but the noises caused by the bumbling asshole finally subsided. Vriska was just starting to drift back to sleep when she heard a light singing, and out of the sky floated a small metal container with a parachute. Vriska’s heart jumps with excitement, and she holds out her flesh hand to snatch it out of the air. She opens it with a smirk on her face. 

“Thanks Mom,” she says, and pulls out a small kit from the shell. Inside there is a small screwdriver, some scraps of metal, wires, and solder glue. Vriska puts the kit in her pocket and tosses away the shell, plans reformulating in her mind for the next day. They would have to wait to attack until her arm was repaired, now that that was possible. If she slept a little longer, she could then wake up at daybreak and start working on her arm. She had self-repaired only a few times before, and she didn’t know how effective this fix would be. But she could only trust in herself and hope that that would do, at least long enough for her to win the game. 

-

Dave moves through the early morning, still clinging to tree branches and trunks. He has been taking intermittent naps instead of actually sleeping, hoping that he can catch some unwitting Tributes off-guard. Instead, he hasn’t seen anyone, so now he moves back around the Cornucopia meadow to the north, planning to start climbing the mountain next. He hopes to find another Tribute or two to take out and continue inching his way towards victory. 

Once the sun is half-risen over the horizon, Dave takes a break to eat some of his meager food before continuing. He shields his eyes against the sun, wishing he had his sunglasses. His Bro was allowed to keep his, and that Dirk kid was, but Dave? Nope. Dave wasn’t allowed to keep his symbol of Strider status. What a joke. 

After sighing and stretching, Dave continued on, itching for some action. It had actually been pretty boring so far, something he had not considered. Perhaps his imagined Hunger Games was a little more exciting, and his view from childhood had been skewed from the broadcasts, but Dave had been expecting much more excitement and action. So far, he had really only gotten in two fights, and that didn’t quite satisfy him. He wants the out-numbered, under-dog rising sort of fights, where the audience really cheers for him, where his Bro is so proud…

Dave is so caught up in his thoughts that he barely hears the singing coming from above him. He looks up to see a metallic shell that can only hold a sponsored present for himself caught by its parachute in the branches above him. He climbs up and grabs it, nearly losing his balance in the process. Inside is just a pair of sunglasses (his own style, of course) and a slip of paper that just says, “Stay Golden.” Dave rolls his eyes at his brother’s stupid jokes, but still thinks it’s funny. He puts the shell in his bag and slides on the glasses, relieved at the dimmed lighting. 

Perfect. _Now_ he’s ready to go win this thing. 

-

The rising sun doesn’t bring any promises for Jake. His eyes open, vision bleary, after not having actually slept but just nodded off for about half an hour. He’s still kneeling by Dirk, whose condition looks like it has actually worsened. Jake feels the stiffness in his knees and moves to adjust himself, only to notice how incredibly itchy his hands are. He looks down to see a red rash spread across his palms and up his wrists, and to see a similar one on Dirk’s neck where he had been pressing leaves all night. The rash is flushed and angry, and Jake doesn’t know what to do. He reaches down to shake Dirk and ask him what he should do, but Dirk just flops when shaken. 

His skin is blue from frozen veins.

“DIRK?” Jake screams, refreshing tears in his tired eyes. He shakes him, calling his name over and over again, but it’s no use. 

Jake killed the one friend he has had in a very long time. 

How did the canon not wake him? It would have been right over his head. Or did he forget about hearing it? No, he can’t be, Dirk’s can’t be—

_Boom._

“NO! NO IT’S NOT REAL!” Jake’s throat is raw from screaming, his voice sounding like he’s eaten sand. Jake wipes away tears from his eyes, only to replace them with a burning sensation after he realizes that he’s spread the rash to his eyes. Crying now in even more agony, Jake falls over and rolls, trying to get to his feet. He hears a deafening sound above him, and can just barely make out a silver ship and claw that takes Dirk away from him. 

“No no no you can’t take him no please I need him,” Jake says, his lips tripping over themselves as he stammers. He manages to stand with his protesting knees and stumbles. "No, NO!"

-

The defining moment of Vriska’s training is upon her. 

She and Quinnell are in position in the trees. The group they've been stalking is walking right towards a meadow with a single tree growing in the middle of it. Vriska has taken the south side, following the group, and Quinnell has gone around and made it to the northwestern part of the line of trees. Vriska clenches and unclenches her newly fixed arm several times, testing it for flaws. Of course, it isn't the best fix in the world, but it’ll do. Her robotic arm gives her a huge advantage in hand to hand combat, and she can't wait to tear into that Kanaya girl with the satisfying crunch of bone under metal...

She squints up at the sun, which is just beginning to rise. They were almost in position...   
‘ _Now._ ’ She raises her arm and uses it to flash a signal across the field where she knows Quinnell waits. After three flashes, she jumps out of her tree silently and down onto her prey. 

Vriska descends with her legs outstretched and her knees locked, landing them squarely on the back of the fashionista bitch. Vriska feels Kanaya's body give under the impact, and Vriska moves to draw her knife, but not quick enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a stick coming towards her face and ducks just in time. But Kanaya is given a chance to struggle, and she throws Vriska off of her and onto the ground. "QUINNELL!" Vriska screams, throwing up her arms to protect her face as she rolls away from another swing from Terezi and her walking stick. She hears shouting in the distance, and it sounds like Quinnell has drawn her sword and finally engaged the enemy. Vriska dodges again and scrambles to her feet, drawing her dagger in the process. She and Terezi start circling each other, much to Vriska's surprise. How is Terezi keeping up with her?

"I'm surprised you've lasted this long," Vriska says snidely, holding her dagger at the ready. "You know, you being blind and all."

"And I've surprised you've lasted, Spider Girl, seeing as you're so arrogant," Terezi responds, her milky eyes locking with Vriska's blue ones, making the second girl shiver. They are so creepy and dead looking, and why are they looking right at her?

Vriska steps on a stick and Terezi swings. Vriska ducks again and comes up with her knife, which Terezi manages to avoid the brunt of, but blood still spurts all over them from her arm. Terezi hisses, but doesn't miss a beat and slams her small fist into Vriska's head. Vriska stumbles, momentarily blinded, and—

WHACK.

"RRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Vriska's scream would have hurt her ears if she had been paying any attention to them. Her hands immediately find her bleeding eye as she falls to her knees. Blood is soaking through her fingers and she can't do anything but try and stumble away, but Terezi gets in another hit in the same eye and Vriska knows that she's done for. She lashes out in fury with the dagger that she manages to find on the ground, feeling it cut into Terezi once more, and this gives her enough of an opportunity to get to her feet and run. She opens her left eye to see her bloody hand and the trees before her, and she runs. She runs until she can't breath anymore, until she thinks that she may pass out from the loss of blood, until she feels shame consuming every cell in her body and she collapses, tears pouring out of her functioning eye and stinging the other. 

She it so distraught that she forgets she even had a companion when the canon booms almost an hour later. 

-

"What should we do with her?"

Rose is impressed with Kanaya. She and Terezi figured out they were being followed about a day ago, lured their pursuers into this meadow, and sprung the trap. Now one, Vriska, had fled after being partially blinded, and the other, Winda Quinnell, is presently tied in trip wire that slices into her delicate white skin. She has a head wound that has slowed its bleeding recently, and is tied to a tree a safe distance away from the group. Only Terezi and herself have suffered any wounds, mostly just cuts and bruises, but they're still bandaged and a little beaten. 

"I know," Terezi said, glaring in Quinnell's general direction. "Something fitting. I'm gonna need some help."

It takes the rest of the group a little while to realize what Terezi's plan was, but Rose knew immediately when Terezi grabbed the extra trip wire and started tying knots. Soon enough they were hoisting Quinnell up to her feet and Terezi was tying a noose around her neck. Quinnell dwarfed everyone in the group, and Rose is sure that Terezi’s plan is going to take too long and probably not even work. 

"Up the tree," Terezi ordered, jiggling the wire around Quinnell's neck. She refused, and it took the entire rest of the group to haul her dead-weight body up high enough from the ground. Finally, Terezi joined them and made some final knots, and ordered everyone back to the ground. 

Rose had not idea what Terezi said, but the blind girl whispered something in Quinnell's ear before she gave her death. As the rope went taunt, a canon boomed, shaking some leaves from the tree. The wire cut deep into Quinnell's perfect neck, bleeding her like a pig, and Terezi jumped down from the tree and accepted her bloody walking stick back from Karkat. 

Before they left, Terezi looked up at the sky, raised her middle finger, and said, "Suck on that, you bunch of ass-sniffing clowns."

-

Gamzee had been raging through the forest for too long, trying to sniff out Tavros. He had been a tricky one, this cripple kid, something Gamzee hadn't been anticipating. He had been expecting an easy kill, but that didn't seem to be the case anymore. 

At least that child had been enough. Too easy, with a weak skull and brains slathered across the walls of the cave like a mural...

But here was the cave again, and Gamzee grinned at his luck. "This is just tooooooo motherfucking good!" he cackles, rubbing his hands together, remembering the consistency of that small-thinker...

Gamzee decided this would too, and ducked into the cave. His paintings were still there, words that he didn't recognize while sober, pictures that only made sense when he was half-asleep. The red blood had dried to blood, and this displeased him. He wanted it fresh, red, like what he pictured in his night-terrors. He wanted that low-blood, Tavros, Taaaaavros, with his pathetic prosthetics, his trembling features, his soft, child-like composition. What kind of insides did he have, Gamzee wonders...

The canon before noon makes him frown. Why the fuck are other people taking away his fun?

"Gonna get you, motherfuckers, right at the end, at the end when the dreams end, when the dreams are nightmares and I'm laughing with the clowns," Gamzee mutters, using a sharpened tooth to open the flesh on his finger so he can paint some new pictures before he goes out to find a new playmate.

-

Tavros has no idea where he is, but he's sure he's lost Gamzee. It's been almost a day, and he's weak with hunger and thirst. There is a little water in his bag, but he's saving that until he feels like he's actually going to die of thirst. How long can someone go without water? A few hours? Days? Tavros doesn't remember. He just knows that he needs to find more soon, otherwise he will actually die thirsty.

There has only been one canon today, and he isn't sure if that's reassuring or not. It sounded sort of near to him, so it could have been Gamzee. In fact, depending on the person who died, it almost certainly was Gamzee. If we was starting with the weakest and working his way up… well, he was technically a Career. He had the training and skills of a killer. But he had seemed so… _nice._ What had happened? Had the Game really made him that crazy? Or was it something else? Tavros wanted an answer, but he also never wanted to see Gamzee again unless it was his picture in the sky. 

So Tavros traveled on, search for water, not really caring who died or killed around him, just wishing to last a little longer in the arena. It was really the best he could do. 

-

Lost, lost, so lost wandering far until feet give up looking for the silver in the sky. Jake crawls on rashed hands and broken hearts, hunting for the ship that took his friend, losing, losing so much, much _time._ Is the sun going up or going down? Jake’s head says yes and he drags on, throat rawer than his knees from crying and screaming and heat. 

Trickling creaking squawking shifting; Jake sees a shimmer up ahead and pulses pick up into unpleasant rhythms, perfectly familiar by now. _Dirk._

If Dirk is the nourishment of life, he is also a bringer of death. Jake slithers across hot sand and dips his face in the warm, murky water and breathing in life that stings on the way down. He slips further and further, rubbing his esophagus raw while trying to heal it, vision bubbling away from him. Jake opens his eyes and sees Dirk before him, face rising from the sand, and he stretches his hands out to reach Jake. He looks beautiful in the filtered sunlight, but the smell of rotten eggs overwhelms Jake’s nose in a final moment of clarity. Jake feels peaceful, and his hand finds Dirk’s in the softness of sand, lungs filling and eyes burning away in the stream. 

Jake’s form floats to the bottom, a muffled boom rippling the surface of the otherwise calming scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (happy upda8 time you nerds hussie is a fuckin' troll)


	7. Part Six - Burn Baby, Burn

Jack is absolutely bored with the Game, something that hasn't happened in a while. It must be this years crop, because this arena was perfectly designed by Jack himself. He paces around the control room, wondering if now would be the time to set off the secret weapon. They are past mid-game, technically, but day four? This was weak. He hadn't expected to use it until day five or six, when groups were so spread out there was really no other way of uniting them on the playing field. Jack sighs and continues pacing, wishing these kids weren't so fucking stupid sometimes. Mutinies, hangings, drowning... really, what were they even teaching the Careers anymore?

"Sir, what would you like to do?" Spades asks him from his seat to the left of the control platform. Spades has been a diligent helper the past couple of years, and Jack had almost gained a sense of trust in his underling. Jack made another trip around the virtual map in front of him, scanning the tags of the Tributes with sharp vision. 

"Ready the volcano."

-

Rose and her team have since left the tree where Quinnell was hanging and headed west (at least, what they figured was west) towards the lone mountain. Rose hadn't exactly approved of Terezi's method, but in the end, what did it matter? Only one of them was going to live anyways, so why not give the Capital a big _fuck you_? Actually, it almost surprised Rose that the group was able to even hang Quinnell, and that it was Terezi who lead the bloodlust. She just didn't seem like that type of person, but you could never tell in the arena who would be friend or foe. 

As the sun approaches about six o'clock, there is a sudden rumbling and shaking in the ground below them, and everyone falls on their knees and backs, getting scrapped and bumped against the trembling earth. "What's going on?" John shouts, "What the hell?"

"Earthquake?" Kanaya responds, clinging to her bag. "From Jack?"

Rose tries to shrug, but realizes the gesture is pointless and just yells, "I don't know, but it can't be good."

"Well, it had better stop soon, this is so fucking—”

The explosion is unlike one any of them have ever heard. Beyond deafening, they momentarily lose hearing and breath as they are thrown flat to the ground, debris knocking into their faces and injuring them. Rose feels panic rising in her chest, running possible scenarios in her head, and there's really only one answer. 

"The mountain is a volcano!" Rose screams so her friends can maybe hear her. "We have to get away! Now!" 

They can now see the top of the mountain from where they lie on the forest floor, red and glowing with molten rock that slips down its surface with the steady pace of hot syrup. Everyone scrambles to their feet and break into a sprint, Karkat grabbing Terezi's hand while they all flee, hopefully in a direction that will take them as far away from the danger as possible. Another shock wave from the blast hits them and they tumble down again, the ground splitting and reforming around them, taking herculean effort to stand again. 

"Come on, follow me!" Rose shouts, and she leads the retreat, jumping over fissures, trying to deduce the clearest path. She hopes that they will make it, never feeling as determined as she does now to stay alive, to keep these people alive. It went against everything she believed growing up and going in to the arena, and here she was, playing leader and commander. It wouldn't be enough, in the end, but she knew that. At least they could all die with some sense of dignity. That they didn't give up. That they kept fighting. 

-

Dave falls out of a tree for the first time in the Games when the shockwave hits. He had been simply perching on a branch trying to scope out his route when the mountain blasted open. He fell, hitting his head on the hard ground and almost knocking himself out in the process. His vision swims, and when he finally feels like he can stand, he sees what is left of the mountain top sliding its way towards him. 

"Shit."

Dave turns and runs, hoping that his sprinting skills wouldn't fail him now. He isn't sure how far it was, but if he could just make it to the Cornucopia, it was quite a distance away, and he could climb up it and be safe... 

Dave glances back, and the lava is far closer than it was when he started running. He forces himself to look forwards and concentrate harder on his legs, lungs, and brain as he wills himself to go faster. ' _No, not gonna fucking die here, not by some shit lava, lava is stupid anyways, what kind of sick fucker puts a volcano in a goddamn arena, stupid bastards._ '

The heat on his back is incredible. Dave knows he isn't going to make it any further on foot, and jumps up the first tree he sees. If he could climb high enough, maybe he would be able to ride a wave of burning trees out of here. He almost slips off a few times from the sweat on his hands, and the burning smell is torturous on his nostrils. Dave hears crackling and looks down to see lava pooling around his tree trunk, and in this motion, his new glasses slip from his face and fall, twisting and melting before they even reach the pool of fire below. 

It is then that Dave realizes the reality of the situation. There's no going back. He's done for. 

"I'm sorry, Bro," he whispers, gripping the tree trunk tightly. Should he at least swan dive into the lava, like a fucking hero? No, that was too fruity. But it was better than letting himself be weak and consumed by the Game. 

Before Dave can decide, the sweltering heat affects his brain, and he feels his head become far too hot, like it's in an oven, and Dave slips, falling for the second and last time. His body melts before he even reaches the source itself. 

-

Luckily for Karkat and his companions, they had been fairly far away from the volcano when it had exploded, and had thus far been able to avoid the lava flows. Debris was the problem now, and they had been rained on by small pieces of pumice a few times since the initial explosion. But now an ominous mixture of fog and thick smoke is rolling down the mountain, and they are about to get swallowed by it. 

“Let’s turn to the south!” Rose shouts, and they all turn to the left a little more and picked up the pace, Karkat tugging Terezi along. She isn’t even complaining that his grip threatens to dislocate her joints, either. She is just wheezing on behind him, using her walking stick in her other had to steady herself when she trips and is about to fall over. They continue on, all gasping for breath, Rose and Kanaya leading, John and Jade following, and Karkat and Terezi at the end of the line. 

Then the cloud of dust hits. 

Like a dream, everything around them is grey. Karkat coughs violently, but at least this isn’t his first time being surrounded by death particles before. In fact, for the first time in the entire game, he probably has the advantage right now. He can hear the others around him coughing, but he’s lost a hold of Terezi, and that sends him into a panic. 

“Terezi!” he calls out, coughing again. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Karkat?” she calls back, her voice way fainter than it should be. She was just right next to him, how the fuck did she get all the way over _there?_ “Karkat, where are you?” 

Karkat stumbles towards her voice, but he trips over something, something _alive_ , but it’s Jade, crumpled on the ground and coughing wildly. “Come on Featherbrain, let’s go,” he says, managing to drag her upright by her armpits, dragging her along with him. “Terezi!” 

“Karkat?” 

She’s even further away now, jegus _damn_ her. “Terezi! _Follow the sound of my voice!_ ” Karkat yells, turning in the direction of Terezi’s voice. He gets a nice mouthful of ash and coughs violently, nearly dropping Jade in the process. His throat is burning, and he can’t keep this up for much longer. He readjusts Jade, trying to walk towards Terezi, but her voice gets fainter and fainter as she wanders away from him, and Karkat feels stupid, stupid tears cutting through the dust on his face. 

It’s not terribly long, maybe half an hour, before Karkat hears a faint _boom_ through the settling dust. 

If only he hadn’t let go of her. Maybe Terezi would have lived. 

-

Terezi moves desperately through the cloud, everything suppressing her senses, rendering her, for the first time since she had lost her eyesight, completely blind. She calls for Karkat, but each time she does, he’s further away, and her throat fills more with burning, something that tastes like concrete and death and fire. She staggers on, having lost her walking stick, using hot, crumbling trees as support, tripping over roots and rocks. She feels her muscles weakening from the lack of oxygen. Her head goes hazy. Her lungs are clogging, she can feel her chest getting tighter with every shallow breath.

She trips and falls, striking her elbow and palms as she pathetically tries to stop her fall. What was the point now? She lies there, accepting of her fate, not wanting to fight any more. 

Maybe, wherever she was going, she would have her eyesight back. 

-

The sun sets faster than usual, though that probably had more to do with the cloud of ash blocking they sky than anything else. 

The explosion had initially shaken Vriska, but she was so far away now from the volcano she just watched it from her vantage point. She was on a cliff of white rock, a river flowing below her, stinking less of sulfur now that she was further away from the chaos. She watched the mountain implode, the blood-red sunset behind it, and the sound of canons shaking the smallest of rocks by her feet. Only two? That seemed a bit slim for the dramatic move made by Jack. Maybe there were more to come. 

When darkness falls, Vriska goes down to the river to attend to her wound. She’s completely blinded in her left eye, the bloody, mangled mess enough to turn anyone’s stomach. She had vomited on the way here. Not her finest hour. But now she had a ripped strip of fabric tied around her head, holding another wad of fabric in place over her eye. It had finally stopped bleeding, so she settled just for the single strip. She looks like a pirate, and Vriska thinks this is at least badass. Completely crippling, considering the competition that’s left in the game, but she can do this. She isn’t stupid, but now is the time to really put her skills to the test. Trapping and less confrontational kills were going to be her key to success. 

A few hours later, Vriska’s shallow sleep is disturbed by the Capitol’s song. She opens her groggy eye to watch the death toll. 

**DISTRICT ONE: DIRK STRIDER**

Curious. Vriska was sure he would make it to the final four. Apparently not. 

**DISTRICT TWO: WINDA QUINNELL**

‘ _I wonder how… no. I can’t think about that._ ’

**DISTRICT FIVE: DAVE STRIDER**

Both Striders. Vriska’s stomach jolts when she realizes how alone she really is. Not that she had wanted to kill Dave, but… well, at least it wouldn’t be a showdown between two people of the same district. That would have been even worse. 

**DISTRICT SIX: TEREZI PYROPE**

“Serves that bitch right,” Vriska comments to no one, grinning in sick satisfaction. 

**DISTRICT SIX: JAKE ENGLISH**

Quite the eventful day. No doubt, there were more canons to soon follow. Vriska is sure that the volcano hasn’t finished wrecking havoc just yet. 

When the music ends, Vriska starts doing some calculations. There were ten people left, which was astonishing for the fourth day. To be fair, not many had been killed in the start of the game (which was usually a bloodbath), and the volcano was still working its magic. Hopefully that would do some of Vriska’s work for her. Who was left… the huge guy from Four, and the girl, Lalonde. That bitch, Maryam. She hadn’t seen anyone from Twelve yet in the sky… or Eight. And then… Vriska snorted. That kid with the fake legs from Ten. At least Vriska didn’t have to worry about him. Hell, she could even use him to her advantage, if she got the chance. 

Vriska rolls over, trying to sleep on the smooth part of the rock. She is sure that she’s forgetting someone… but she can’t quite remember who. Well, it’ll probably come to her. That was a problem for tomorrow morning, when she got up to assess the full damage left by the volcano. 

-

“Terezi… Terezi…”

Karkat is still sniffling as Jade, John, and he make it to the edge of the ash. He blames it on the hot ash in his eyes, but everyone knows the real reason. 

“It’s my fault,” he repeats for the hundredth time. 

“No,” Jade says, expression stern. “It’s the Game.” 

They can see further ahead of themselves now, and they don’t cough quite as much. They can hear a trickle of water, and they all pick up their paces as they reach the edge of danger. 

“Look at it,” John says, pointing behind them. Jade and Karkat turn to see a wall of smoke behind them, clear night air ahead of them. “Jack must be controlling it somehow.” 

“I’m sure this isn’t the end of it,” Jade says. “Let’s find that water.”

The terrain is rocky and dark, the pumice hard under their shoes. It makes their already tired legs ache as they cross it, heading for the water. The stink of sulfur is unbelievable, overwhelming their sense. They pull their ashy collars over their noses. Finally, they reach the river, black water shining in the hazy moonlight, sulfur unbearable now. 

“Let’s not drink that,” Karkat said. “It’s probably fucking poisoned.” 

“Agreed,” John says, cautiously making his way down the slippery boulders. He scoops up some water to wash off his skin, his hair, his face. Karkat and Jade join him, and soon, they’re clean and moving on.

“Let’s follow the river,” Jade suggests. “At least we’ll get away from the volcano.”

“Yeah, but there might be people camped out on the river,” John counters. “How many are left?”

“Including us? Nearly ten, I think.”

“Karkat? What do you want to do?”

Karkat looks up at John, confused. “What? I don’t fucking care. We’re all going to fucking die anyways.”

"Let’s… Let’s find a safe place to sleep,” Jade says, glancing at Karkat. “We could do with some sleep.”

They walk downstream, eventually finding a small outcropping of rocks that provides some semblance of shelter, and they collapse, exhausted, no one really caring much if they wake up in the morning or not. 

-

Rose feels the rumbling beneath her feet before Kanaya does. 

“MOVE.” 

She grabs Kanaya’s hand and yanks her away, sprinting to a sharp left. Seconds later, they hear the geyser explode like a screaming kettle. They don’t stop moving until they can’t feel the heat of the steam on their backs any more. Rose looks back when they’ve scrambled on top of a huge boulder, and sees streams of steam still leaving the ground, and many other geysers beyond that. 

“If I had to guess, I’d say they were trying to kill us,” Kanaya says, a hand on her chest. Her sweat cuts lines through the ash on her face, making it look like war paint. She’s somehow still beautiful, even though all the trauma they’ve faced in the past four days. 

“I think that’s a fair assessment,” Rose replies, smiling. It doesn’t feel like her to smile, but they are so close to death that maybe she can afford herself small luxuries like this. 

“So what now? We lost the others, but they were running in the same direction… at least, I think they were.”

“We should find them. They can’t be far, and I haven’t heard any canons, so they must be alive.” ‘ _I don’t really know what the point would be, but it’s something to do._ ’ “We have to try, at least.”

“Yeah.” Kanaya looks dejected. “Or should we… Not? I’d hate to be the only ones left, and have to…”

“No.” Rose shakes her head. “None of us could do that. We’d get killed by the Game, one by one, but we wouldn’t kill each other. That’s barbaric.”

“So we find them, and try to survive Jack.”

“Yes.”

Kanaya sighs, accepting an impossible fate. “Alright. Let’s sleep first.”

-

The yowling snaps Karkat out of his uneasy sleep. It sends goose bumps down his spine, making him stand up immediately on high alert. Jade and John follow, drawing what mediocre weapons they had. Jade only has four darts left. 

"What the fu—”

They hear the noise again, a grating scream that’s now closer. Another one follows it, and then a third, and Karkat’s heart is beating about a million miles an hour. He catches sight of a pair of eyes, green and glinting in the dark, and his hands shake so badly he nearly drops his sickles. 

They’re huge cats the size of wolves, but something about them isn’t quite right. Their coats gleam in the little moonlight, their fangs long and dripping with saliva, and Karkat thinks the nearest one has gills on the side of its neck. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees John square his jaw. 

“Run,” John breaths, tightening his grip on the sledgehammer. “Get out.”

“No,” Karkat insists.

“Not you, too,” Jade pleads.

“I’d rather die this way,” John says, and he’s readying himself, tensing his legs to pounce. 

“John—”

“GO!” he screams, and he lunges at the nearest cat, smashing the hammer into its side. A second cat goes to protect its fellow, but the third starts after Jade and Karkat when they make a break for it. 

Jade screams out when claws swipe at her back, slashing through her jacket and bloodying the ground. Karkat turns and swings, cutting into the paw of the predator, but lodging a sickle in its arm. It howls in pain, dropping the pursuit. Karkat throws Jade’s arm over his shoulder and they’re off running again, stumbling over harsh rocks and trying not to hear the crushing and ripping behind them. 

_Boom_

-

Tavros has been alone a lot in his life, but never before has he felt so isolated. He hasn’t seen another person in over a day, and for that, he is grateful. He’s too scared to face the horrors of death. He’s watched the volcano from a distance, the ash falling in a circle around the mountain, far too contained to be natural. He felt the shaking of the ground, the echoing boom of the explosion, and even some heat from the lava. He’s far enough away now that he has just observed, but what he’s seen is far worse than what he could imagine. 

He had no idea how the bodies were collected. There was no ship for the first canon, and Tavros can only imagine what had happened to that Tribute that no body could be recovered. But the next one happened in the depths of the ashes, and he saw a craft descend from the sky, a long arm reaching to the ground and bringing what he only assumed was a body. It was difficult to see from the distance. What did the Capitol want with the bodies? Did they… do something with them? He had heard rumors once, a few Games ago, of bodies turned into experiments, but… 

Tavros shivered as he walked along the river, stumbling occasionally on loose white rocks. His chest is heavy, hopeless, not unlike that hour of darkness as a child when hooves pounded on him, dust choked him, and he waited for a death that never came—

“I didn’t really think anyone else would come this far, let alone you.”

Tavros’s head snaps up and he stops cold to see that girl from Five smirking at him, perched perfectly on a large boulder, her chin resting on her mechanical hand, gore splattered on her clothes, face and hair, and a strip of fabric tied over one eye. Fear roots him in the spot, his knees quaking, and he leans on his spear for support. This was it. He had avoided her for so long, but this girl was sure to be his killer. 

She leaps off the rock with grace, landing with a crunch in the gravel and walks slowly towards him, a wicked smile on her face. Tavros backs up hastily, tripping over his own metal feet and crashing into the rocks. He holds his arm over his face, curling up. 

“Please! I don’t want to die.” 

Vriska lets out a cackle. “You’re in the wrong game for that, kid.”

Her shadow looms over him, a spider ready for her kill, and Tavros braces himself. He feels tears slip down his face, and he wishes he were home tending to animals…

_Swish_

Vriska’s knife glides right past his face and buries itself in the gravel next to him. Tavros cries out in surprise, shivering, and he hears a quiver of laughter. He peers up and sees that Vriska is doubled-over, her entire body shaking with humor. 

“Jegus! You should see your face!” she howls, falling to her knees. She’s so overcome with laughter that she’s crying now, wiping tears from her remaining eye. “You thought I was going to kill you!”

“H-hey! It’s no-not funny!” Tavros says, shuddering. “You we-were totally going to do it!” 

“You think I’d waste my shot on you?” Vriska asks, looking up with another grin on her face. “Oh Tavros, don’t be so naïve.” She picks up her knife and puts it back on her belt. “Seriously. I’ve got bigger fish to fry than you.” She tosses his spear down at his feet. “Come on, Robot Boy, we’ve got traps to set.”

“W-we?” Tavros gets up, his legs still weak, his entire weight dependent on the spear. “I thought you—”

“I could use a helper,” Vriska says casually. “And since I can only see out of one eye, I need someone with a better sense of perspective. I’ll keep you safe, and you watch my back. At least, for now. Agreed?”

Tavros was silent. He didn’t know what to do. He had finally escaped Gamzee, but fell into this spider’s trap… she would probably just kill him when he wasn’t useful anymore. And unlike Gamzee, she could probably track him down… 

“Come on, Tavros. It’s me, or the Game. You don’t want to be alone, do you?”

Tavros gulped. “No.” He takes a steadying breath. “Okay, I guess I’ll… help you, or whatever. For now.”

“That’s the spirit,” Vriska says, clapping him on the back with strength that Tavros wasn’t expecting. “Now, let’s make some plans.”

-

It smelled like burning rain. 

The acidic clouds in the air gave off a horrible stench that burned in Gamzee’s nostrils, a mix of ash and water and death. He stepped out of his cave, taking in a deep breath. 

He fucking loved it. 

In the distance, he can see two figures at the edge of the trees. They seem to be coming his way, and a wicked grin crosses Gamzee’s face. 

“Well I’ll be _fucked_ , brother!” he says gleefully, a plan springing to mind. He retreats back into his cave, picking up a blood-caked club on the way. He kicks his sleeping bag behind a rock and goes further back than he has been yet. He crouches behind a larger rock, eyes peering out of the darkness to the entrance.

He waited. 

Patience was his gift, even when all he wanted was enough slime to keep him high for a month straight, even when his temper was unbelievably thin and blood was the closet thing to slime he could find in the arena. He was focused, waiting. 

He didn’t give a shit about winning. He just wanted out of here so he could get high again. He wanted their blood so he could make more paintings. His mind was exploding with dreams that needed to be painted down so he wouldn’t loose them. 

“Nepeta, we should camp here. It smells like it’s going to rain.” 

The voice is deep, challenging. Gamzee bites down on his hand, drawing blood, so he won’t give himself away with his laughter. This is going to be so _fun._

“Okay, Equius!”

The deep voice walks in first. No doubt he is going to check the cave for other Tributes. Gamzee presses himself into the rock, club ready. The voice and steps come close, just on the other side of the rock. He hears him turning, sees him looking up to his art. 

“What…?”

Gamzee swings his club around with all the force he’s been saving and lands the blow on the deep voice’s shin, feeling the juicy _crack_ and the thud when he hits the cave floor. The little voice is screaming, and Gamzee feels something small jump on his back. The little voice has her arms around his neck and is squeezing, trying to prevent him from getting motherfucking _air_. Gamzee grabs the little voice’s arm and flings her off of him, her head cracking against the stone. There’s a roar from under him, and Gamzee is thrown off by the deep voice. He feels heat when a knife is dragged across his face, but Gamzee just grins. 

“Thanks for the motherfuckin’ scar, brother,” he says, his voice savage and his hands itching for blood. The deep voice lunges again, much heavier and taller than Gamzee, but Gamzee slips under his arm and pushes him headlong into a sharp rock. Blood is pumping so fast in Gamzee’s ears that he doesn’t register the _boom_ , he’s grabbed the club and takes it to the deep voice’s head, his body, is arms, until there is blood, _sweet fucking blood_ trickling down the rocks and there’s a mangled mess all over his cave. He had _so much blood now_ , so much to paint so many pictures. It smelled like iron and blueberry and slime. 

He looks out and sees the little voice has crawled out of the cave, and he follows languidly, dragging the bloody club through the dirt. He would be able to make so many colors now, such beautiful fucking art. If he hid the bodies well enough, maybe he could keep them for a while, too. He had been so angry when the silver gods had taken his last playmate from him. 

She’s struggling away, blood leaking from her head. Why didn’t the little voice want to play with him? But he would fix that. He always did. He splattered her brains all over the dirt with a _boom_ , and then roughly took her ankle in his hands, dragging her back up to the cave. 

It was time to make some paintings with his new friends. 

-

“We should build a shelter.” 

Vriska gives Tavros a look of scrutiny. “Why?”

“It’s going to rain.” Tavros frowns. “Can’t you smell it?”

Vriska’s jaw sets. “No.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay.” Tavros just shrugs. “We should still build one. If we get too wet we could get sick, and that would be a stupid way to go.”

Vriska can’t help but agree with him, but she keeps that thought private. She just starts scouting along the rocks, looking for a big enough boulder that they could dig underneath it and make a sort of cave. That would do for now. 

“Here,” she says, and they start digging. It’s slow going, since Tavros isn’t as competent as her, and Vriska is being careful to not damage her metal arm again. She’s going to need it for the endgame. Finally, they’ve dug enough space that they’ll both fit, and they squeeze their way in. It’s cozy and damp, and not a minute later, they hear the patter of rain on the rock above them. 

-

“It looks like rain,” Jade says, motioning up to the dark sky above them. Karkat and she have made it to trees again, and they’re starting to thin out. In the distance, they can see the meadow, and the Cornucopia a small metallic blip on the horizon. Two recent canons have shaken them, but they were far away. 

“Sure does.” 

Karkat can’t manage to say much more than that. He vaguely wondered how they were still alive. It’s nothing short of a miracle. 

Light patting noises drop onto the leaves, making their way down to the forest floor. 

“And there it—OUCH!” 

Jade clamps her hand over her arm where a drip of water has fallen onto her. Hissing, she pulls her hand back. The skin of her arm is white and blistering, like the water had burned her. 

“Fuck.”

The rain picks up, and more water falls onto their heads, shoulders and backs, burning them with every drop. They yell, desperately trying to find shelter, but the trees are so thin now that they have no chance. 

“The rain jacket!” Karkat shouts. “Do you still have it?”

Jade is thinking the same as him, and pulls the jacket from her bag. She throws it over them, and Karkat says a silent prayer that it will work. The pain stops, and Jade adjusts the clear jacket around them as best she can. The rain looks perfectly normal from inside safety. 

“Come on, let’s find some thicker trees to hide under,” Jade says, and they continue slowly on their journey, shoulders bumping, feet tripping, and hands clasped tight to each other. 

-

Rose and Kanaya are much further east of the volcano than they should have been, with nothing but rocks and a cliff ahead of them, and the looming mountain behind them. 

That’s when the rain hits. 

It doesn’t register in Rose’s mind at first. But eventually, the burning on her skin correlates with Kanaya’s screams, and she gets it. She understands. 

There’s no chance of hiding from the rain. Rose can’t help the soothing tears falling down her cheeks, tracing around the white welts of melting flesh on her face. Kanaya is frantic, trying to find something that will maybe save them, but there’s nothing but rocks and a shallow river. Rose grabs her blistered arm and pulls her near, a hand on Kanaya’s jaw, and she kisses her. It’s the best way to say that it’ll be alright, it’s almost over. 

Rose pulls away as she loses consciousness, her brain unwilling to let her feel this pain any more. 

-

_Boom. Boom._

Two canons, right after the other, sound through the pouring rain. Vriska isn’t surprised. She had accidentally gotten a drop of rain on her hand, and it had burned her skin. Whoever it was, they were probably dissolved by now. 

Tavros is sleeping. She had fixed his malfunctioning leg with the last of her scraps. She could kill him now so easily, but that wasn’t very fair. Or fun. And besides, he could still be useful. He could be bait for whatever powerful Tribute was left. She could still win this. 

Vriska is awake for a long time. The rain finally slows, and then stops. It’s so dark out; it had to be nearing midnight. Just as Vriska allows her eye to close, she hears the anthem playing. She crawls out to sit on top of the boulder they are camped out under to watch the death toll. 

**DISTRICT FOUR: EQUIUS ZAAHAK, ROSE LALOND**

Both of District Four. Vriska frowns. She had thought that Equius… that was him right? The huge guy who towered over everyone else? She thought he had been killing off everyone else. Perhaps not. 

**DISTRICT SEVEN: KANAYA MARYAM**

Vriska grins. _Finally._

**DISTRICT EIGHT: JOHN EGBERT, NEPETA LEIJON**

And both from Eight. Vriska is surprised they had even made it this far. 

The anthem ended, and Vriska looks up at the stars, trying to figure out who was left. She had yet to see anyone from District Twelve in the sky. So two there. Then herself, and Tavros. Four. But there was a fifth person still in the game…

District Three. The girl had died, but not the guy. Vriska is having a difficult time picturing him. What were his strengths, his weaknesses? She’s frustrated she doesn’t remember anything about him. Well, there was always the off-chance that Tavros knew. She could ask him in the morning. 

‘ _Tomorrow,_ ’ she thought. ‘ _Tomorrow, this is all over. We’re going hunting at dawn._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting the next update day in the summary for the fic. Additionally, I have a playlist set up for this fic, which will be posted at the top of the fic after I give it the final touches.   
> Feedback is always appreciated, I know this has been (too) long coming.


	8. Part Seven - Time Takes Us All

“The last Tribute that’s alive. Do you know him?” 

Tavros hesitates. He and Vriska have been slowly making their way through the forest towards the center of the arena. They would have stayed out on the white rocks, but Vriska’s plan involves laying many traps in the trees. The game was nearly over. Those left would be driven to the center, so they decided to gain the advantage. 

“Well, do you?”

“Yes. He’s from District Three. G-Gamzee.” 

Vriska shoots him a look when he’s quiet after that. “Well? What’s he like?”

“He… he’s…” Tavros takes a deep breath. “He’s homicidal. He was fine when we were in the Capital, but since we’ve been in here, he’s turned crazy. I don’t… I don’t know why.” 

Vriska snorts. “No big surprise. But what’s his angle? How does he fight?”

“I, um I don’t really know,” Tavros admits. “He is carrying metal clubs though, so I can only imagine…”

“Alright, well, good to know what we’re up against, I guess.” Vriska sounds nonchalant, but Tavros knows better than to trust that tone, especially in the Arena. He might be crippled and scared, but he isn’t stupid. 

They soldier on, not really knowing what to expect from the next few hours, but hoping the odds will continue to be in their favor. 

-

Jade and Karkat make it to the forest again after the rain, the Cornucopia shining in the distance. They cut an arc around the structure, following the tree line around the meadow. Neither of them talk very much. The rain jacket had lasted them the cold, acidic night that had destroyed so much. They both hoped that the fallout from the volcano was over, but there was really no way to tell. With only five Tributes left, Jack may still have some tricks still up his sleeve. 

Around noon, they reach the other side of the Cornucopia. They stop for a moment to eat the last of the food they have, swallowing their meager portions too quickly. Jade adjusts the bag on her back and looks at Karkat with hesitation. “I think if we… if we want to eat dinner, we should… split up.” 

Karkat frowns at her. “What do you—oh.” 

She wanted them to split up so they wouldn’t see each other die. Or have to pick who lived. 

Jade cleared her throat. “We can, uh, cover more ground, you know?”

Karkat felt like he had swallowed a rock. “Y-yeah. Agreed.” He took his sickle and carved an X into the nearest tree. “We’re nearly due east from the Cornucopia. Let’s plan to meet up here by sunset.” 

“Okay,” Jade says quietly. He turns to leave, but she says, “Karkat?” 

“What?” Before he can even turn fully turn back, she pulls him into a tight hug. Karkat tenses before hugging her back. He couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged him. 

“Just, um, be careful, okay? Coal-muncher,” she jokes, voice thick. 

“You too, Feather-brain.” Karkat turns his face away from her. They part quickly, neither willing to look back at the other. Karkat quickly wipes away a tear with the back of his hand. He’ll be damned if he lets her know he cried, even if… 

No, that’s defeatist. Karkat had to hang on to the idea that he would see Jade tonight. 

Otherwise, he may as well just kill himself now. 

-

Vriska stalked quietly through the trees, taking the utmost care to not make a sound. Her prey was ahead of her, searching through bushes for berries. Pointless, really. This girl wasn’t going to survive even the next twenty minutes. 

Vriska is completely in the dark about this girl from Twelve. She didn’t pay her much mind during training, since the lower Districts Tribute’s tend to go fast. The fact that she and her partner were still alive baffles Vriska. Vriska also estimates she is a little shorter and slighter than her prey, but not by much. After all, Vriska has a robotic arm. This should be easy. 

As she creeps forward, Vriska accidentally steps on a stick that snaps under her boot. Vriska ducks as her prey shoots up, looking around suspiciously. Just when Vriska thinks she’s in the clear and that the girl will go away, she hears a quiet _swoosh_ and a dart flies through the bushes, narrowly missing her arm. Vriska saves her curses and charges out of the tree, knife drawn in her right hand, left hand swinging to catch whatever weapon her prey has. 

The girl is caught off-guard by Vriska’s very straight-forward attack, and stumbles backwards as she’s charged. She has the sense to pop another dart in her blowgun and raise it to her lips, but as she fires it, Vriska’s metal hand closes around the end and the dart bounces off of it and Vriska rips the weapon away from her. With killer precision, Vriska quickly swipes her blade across the girl’s neck before she can scream. Blood bursts all over Vriska as the girl goes down, a guttural gurgling imprinting itself into Vriska’s memory before the _boom_ of the canon echoes through the air. Vriska checks the girl’s bag and, after seeing there was nothing of value, runs off before her partner or Gamzee can happen across her. 

-

Tavros is situated up in a tree, his spear clutched tightly in his arms, telling himself that he is poised for a trap. In reality, Tavros doesn’t really believe his plan of dropping a spear onto someone’s head constitutes a good trap (or even an accomplishable plan), but he has to tell himself that so he doesn’t feel more useless than he already does. Vriska’s plan of hunting down the last Tributes might work for her, but certainly not for him. He doesn’t even know what he would do if he were put into a situation where he had to fight to the death with another kid. 

This is the thought he has when the red-headed boy from Twelve walks out of the bushes not twenty meters from his tree. He looks scared, and Tavros has no idea what to do. Obviously, Vriska would urge him to kill the kid and be done with it. But Tavros trembles, gripping the spear even tighter so it doesn’t slip out of his grasp accidentally. What should he do? What if the kid sees him up here? What if—

_Boom_

Tavros nearly falls out of the tree this time. He watches the boy below jump as well, holding a sickle out in front of him, arms visibly shaking. In the last echo of the _boom_ , Tavros hears him whisper, “Jade?” Not knowing who died is driving Tavros crazy. If it was Vriska who killed this Jade, then where—

It happens so fast that Tavros thinks it’s a trick of the light. A shadow descends from the tree above the red head and slams him to the ground under their shoes. Tavros can’t look away from the horror as the red head screams and Gamzee swings a club at the boy’s face. Another scream is mixed in with the _boom_ from the canon, but it turns to a cackling, stomach-clenching sound that comes from Gamzee’s broad mouth as he swings the club over and over. The boy’s face is smashed beyond recognition, his skull completely caved in. Tavros holds his hand over his mouth to suppress a whimper. Gamzee, finally satisfied, throws the body over his shoulder and stalks away through the under growth. Tavros stays frozen, unable to take his eyes away from the splatter of brains, blood and skull on the grass and tree trunks below him. 

Eventually, he vomits, but stays firmly in the tree, unwilling to move any more. 

-

Vriska’s blood is pumping fast with adrenaline and victory. The second boom hadn’t been long after her’s, and judging from the scream, the attack had been close by. She thought maybe it was Tavros, but the scream wasn’t quite high-pitched enough to be him. It had to be the other Tribute from Twelve. She highly doubted either him or Tavros would have taken down Gamzee if he was as strong as Tavros said he was. So she ran as stealthily as she could towards the noise. If Gamzee had taken someone down, then he had to be weakened, not on his guard. She could catch him now and end this. 

Then all that would be left was Tavros to take care of. 

Vriska smirks. She was going to win this. 

She sees some blood on a tree ahead of her and stops, listening. There’s noise far away from her, to the left. She changes course, being more careful this time, but still not as quiet at she had been while stalking the girl. Her knife is still at the ready, colored with rusty red blood. She flexes and unflexes her metal fingers over and over, testing their strength, aching to use it on Gamzee. Vriska hasn’t felt this wicked in ages, longing to rip his throat out with cold, strong fingers. 

The trees seem to be thinning, and Vriska can hear grunts and breathing coming closer. She goes into full stealth mode, creeping through bushes and between trunks and roots. She wasn’t going to make a stupid mistake this time. She sees an odd shaped shadow move and freezes again. Gamzee has the body of another Tribute over his shoulder, trailing blood and staining the back of his jacket. Vriska’s heart skips momentarily when she realizes it’s not Tavros ( _‘But why the fuck should I care I’m just going to kill him myself’_ ) but Gamzee is about to leave the trees and part of Vriska wants to know what he plans on doing with the body, but the sensible part of her knows that if she leaves the trees, she’s lost her best advantage. He’s much taller than she expected, as tall as Eridan had been, but way lankier. He’s dragging a metal club, but if he’s already killed, maybe he’s tired. But he’s reached the tree line, so Vriska reacts quickly. She takes a running leap and throws her entire weight onto his back, toppling him and the body he’s carrying over. 

Vriska rolls off immediately and thinks of scrambling up a tree, but Gamzee is already on his feet and the look in his eyes is _terrifying_. But Vriska can’t let herself feel fear as he lunges for her and she barely jumps out of range of his club. She’s not going to be able to get anywhere near him while he holds that, and she’s got to come up with a plan soon or it’s _her_ brains that are going to be splattered on the grass next. 

He lunges again, letting out a maniac’s laugh while he does, murder and amusement and a pure thirst for blood in his eyes, face painted in a complicated pattern with blood. Vriska dodges again, trying to calculate the plan that ends with her winning. That’s when she chooses to make some sacrifices, like any good chess player. 

Gamzee swings again, his aim wild, but Vriska catches the club in her metal hand with a _crunch_ that tells her her arm isn’t going to be useful for much longer. With all her strength, she rips the club from his hand and it lands deep in the bushes behind her. He lunges, but she’s ready. Vriska grabs the wrist that’s reaching for her and drives her knife into the second hand. Gamzee hardly seems to notice though, and rips her weapon away from her. Panicked, Vriska lashes out a kick that lands in his knee. Gamzee falters slightly, but keeps laughing. He rips the dagger out of his hand with his teeth and the bloody fist connects with Vriska’s jaw, loosening her grip on his opposing hand. She has the sense to hold up her arm in protection though, because seconds later her forearm is on fire from the slash of her own knife. Vriska lets out a yelp, but connects her metal fist with Gamzee’s other knee and this time, there’s a _crack_ and he’s forced to drop to the ground. Perfect, now she just has to—

Vriska lets out a little gasp as she doubles over, her dagger stuck deep into her gut. Gamzee twists it, and Vriska can’t scream, too focused on the overwhelming pain and the laughter in her ears. She grabs his hand and lands a hit on his face, metal cracking further. She can feel herself losing control of her arm, the blood pooling in her stomach, as she manages to get the knife out and slash him across the face. Gamzee staggers back just enough so that Vriska clamps her metal hand over her gushing wound and retreats for the second time in the game, shaking all over and fighting her instincts to give up. 

-

Tavros had seen Vriska earlier, passing near him not long after Gamzee had left with the red head’s body. Tavros stayed silent, either out of fear that she would kill him or a hope that she would eliminate Gamzee. Either way, he stayed put in his tree, his stomach growling as the sun began to travel towards its sunset. He had strained his ears to listen to the commotion from the direction where Gamzee and Vriska had gone, but he heard no canon. Had no one won their fight? Or had Vriska just decided to study him and ambush him later? Either way, it drove Tavros’s nerves to an all-new level. He wanted to just wait out the rest of the Games from this tree, but he knew that was impossible. Gamzee or Vriska would come for him at some point, and he would only have one shot at defending himself when they did. 

There was the sound of bushes being roughly clambered through, and Vriska came into view, bloody, pale and shaking. Tavros didn’t know what to make of her, but he unstuck his throat. 

“V-Vriska!” he calls out to her. She whips her head up, looking around for him. When he starts wiggling his way down the tree, she sees him and looks at him like she’s about to pass out. 

“Tavros,” she croaks, and when he gets to the ground, he can see she’s far worse off than he ever expected to see her. Sure, losing an eye was rough, but blood was leaking from her body at an alarming rate. Tavros immediately threw her flesh arm around his shoulders and they set off, looking for anything that resembled shelter. 

“D-don’t worry, we’ll get somewhere safe,” he says, trying to reassure her. Vriska responds with a soft groan, and he drags her on desperately. It’s far harder to walk now, one hand clutching his spear, the other Vriska’s broken body, and they trip a few times over loose roots. Tavros remembers seeing a larger tree not far from where they had come this morning, and he makes for it, hoping there would be some shelter found in its roots. 

The sun begins to set, and Tavros can hardly see as he continues to drag Vriska along with him. Her breathing is getting pretty shallow, and Tavros doesn’t know if he could handle it if she died. Sure, she had pretended to attack him, but something in him felt infinitely horrible about letting her die like this. He knew Vriska would find little dignity in it. 

They finally come to a large tree with some of its roots popping out of the ground, making a small space under the tree. It certainly wouldn’t fit both of them, but Tavros figures he can hide Vriska here for a while. He doesn’t have a plan, but he assures himself that he’ll figure one out later. His first priority is Vriska. In the fading light, he eases her onto the ground and peels off his own jacket, pressing it into her wound. She yelps a little, but closes her eyes and bears through the pain. 

“It’s… it’s pretty bad, V-Vriska,” Tavros says, voice hushed. 

She manages to weakly chuckle. “Don’t count me out yet. It’s gonna take more than this to kill me.” She takes another sharp breath as he starts binding her arm. It didn’t look like anything was broken… she had just been slashed up. What in the world had happened? But Tavros doesn’t ask so she can save her strength. 

-

The night fell quickly, and Tavros highly suspects that time is being messed with by Jack. There was no way that the moon would have risen in the span of an hour, glowing full above their heads and casting ghostly shadows. The anthem began to play, and Tavros looked to the sky, already knowing what was to come. 

**DISTRICT TWELVE: KARKAT VANTAS, JADE HARLEY**

But when Tavros thinks that the song is going to end, it swells and continues, accompanied by President English’s voice. 

“ _Tributes, you have fought valiantly. At dawn, there will be a feast at the Cornucopia which will contain everything you need to win the game. May the odds be ever in your favor._ ”

Then the music fades, and Tavros is left with too many thoughts in his brain. 

“It’s a trap, you know.” Vriska’s voice makes him jump.

“I… I know,” he responds, slow and careful. Of course it is. They want to end the game. There’s only three of them left, and while Vriska might not make it through the night, Tavros was going to be damned if he didn’t at least try to heal her. It was her dream, after all, to win the game. He wanted to live, but what would it be for? 

And Gamzee… he doesn’t want to go that way, brains bashed in and used for war paint. 

“Don’t you dare think about offing me, robo-legs,” Vriska wheezes, trying to mask her pain with humor. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tavros says weakly. He had already thought about it. She was an easy target, her knife was right on her belt… he could get it while she was sleeping and drive it into her chest. It would be quick. Clean. She wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. 

But Tavros can’t even bring himself to think about it, what it would feel like. Sound like. Smell like. He probably wouldn’t be able to drive the dagger hard enough into her breastplate to reach her heart. She would just wake up and strangle him. Then she would bleed out, die, and Gamzee would win. 

Gamzee always won in any scenario Tavros came up with. 

Nerves and schemes kept Tavros awake through the waning night. He had never been much of a schemer, but he had to make a plan now. A really solid plan. Vriska had fallen back into shallow sleep, and Tavros watched the sky change from black to purple to blue, still too early yet for dawn. If he couldn’t kill Vriska, he had to try and heal her. Or he could wait here for her to die. Either way, Gamzee would find him. But if he could heal Vriska, then maybe they stood a chance, together, against the older Tribute. They could… well, not win. Vriska would win. She deserves it. She’s been through hell, and she could have killed Tavros a while ago, but she didn’t—

The sky turns a little pink, and a haunting melody plays throughout the arena. Tavros shudders. This was it. He had made it to dawn on the final day, and the banquet had been served. 

It was now or never, and Tavros decides that now was the best time to stop being a coward and face death with dignity. 

-

Tavros makes his way quietly through the dawn, the dewy grass masking his steps. The sky’s deep red is turning blood orange. Tavros grips his spear with white knuckles. He’s overly cautious as he walks, unsure of what Gamzee’s plan may be. Would he jump him on his way out of the forest? Just as he entered the meadow? At the Cornucopia? As he was walking away, thinking he was safe? Tavros tries not to worry about it. Whatever his plan is, Tavros has no doubt that he’ll spring whatever trap has been laid. He just has to figure out how to escape. 

He reaches the edge of the trees and stops, gazing out over the meadow. The sun hasn’t quite peaked out from behind the volcano yet, leaving everything in shadows. The Cornucopia looks cold and unforgiving. Tavros carefully takes in everything he can see, but everything is quiet. No animals, no wind, no canons. He takes a deep breath, and starts making his way through the tall grass. 

Every _swish_ brings him closer to the center of the arena, the sun slowly rising, light catching the metal of the Cornucopia. Tavros shields his eyes with his free hand. He can make out shadows inside of the structure now, including a small table out front that is overflowing with food and first aid kits. Beyond that, he can’t see much. He assumes there are weapons and other supplies galore, but he hasn’t been back here since the start of the game.

As he gets within fifty yards of the gaping, dark mouth, Tavros holds his spear at the ready. He has to walk slower now, partially because he’s gripped with terror, and partially because he has to concentrate so much more on walking. Despite everything, Tavros is more confident in his fake legs than he’s ever been. Not a master, for sure, but better off than he was in the beginning. But is it going to be enough? 

Tavros creeps even slower now. He has targeted a kit and a small sack of food, enough to last himself and Vriska until she can really recover—

_Boom_

The distant sound stops Tavros’ hand as he reached for the kit, frozen in shock. It had come from the forest—

“Welcome to the motherfuckin’ end game, my _brother._ ” 

Tavros manages to look up briefly before Gamzee vaults over the table, hands crusty with blood and outstretched to wrap around his throat. Tavros thrusts out his spear, hoping to stop the pressure closing around his windpipe. He kicks feebly with his legs, Gamzee laughing and gurgling over him. Tavros shuts his eyes, wishing Gamzee would have chosen a faster way to kill him. He feels his skin becoming wet and hot, his hands slippery. He doesn’t have much strength left. His fingers slip away from the shaft of his spear as his conscience fades. 

_Boom_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue posted soon, fear not.


	9. Epilogue - Broken Crown

“Which one was it?” Jack snaps, searching every screen within his reach for the answer. He was fond of suspense, but they needed to make sure they had a clear winner. The Capitol could not afford a game without a Victor. 

“Pulling vital signs now, sir,” said Spades. “Makara is—wait, he’s gone. His stats just went flat.” 

“And the other?” If this game failed, Jack’s name would live on in infamy—and his head on a spike. 

“Nitram is…” 

“ _Is what?_ ”

“Nitram is gone, too.” 

“No he’s not!” another member of the control room yells, and she sends the vital signs tracker to the main screen. “We almost lost him, but he’s just fainted. But we need to get him out of there now, or Makara’s body is going to finish suffocating him.”

“Send in the ships. We’ve got to recover our Victor.” 

A smile curls itself across Jack’s scarred face. Another successful game, and he had even beat his record. Perhaps he’d treat himself tonight to a nice martini and a good session with his sketchbook. 

This was going to be a difficult year to top.

-

White light. 

Is this what the afterlife is? 

Does the afterlife include tingling sensations? Memories of pain? 

Tavros blinks a few times, then squints. Figures float above him, also clad in white. There’s a pleasant humming, a prickling sensation in his legs. 

_Legs?_

-

“It is my honor to introduce to you the Victor of the 42nd Annual Hunger Games, Tavros Nitram!” 

Tavros hardly registers words or cheers. Someone pushes him onto the stage to meet with Andrew Hussie once again. He doesn’t stumble across the stage like he used to, but it also doesn’t feel like he is willing himself to move.

“Let us take a moment of silence to remember the brave Tributes that sacrificed themselves so Tavros could sit with us today.” 

Tavros looks up at one of the screens hovering behind himself and Hussie to see the pictures of this year’s Tributes, with video of their last moments. He sees a broadsword go through the Roxy that is standing over himself. _Roxy_. She felt like an eon ago. He watches as child after child is killed, but he can’t feel anything as he watches the gore. The audience claps and cries and boos and cheers through the feature, but he can’t feel anything except a terrible notion that he wasn’t supposed to be there. 

“Tavros, we just have a few final questions for you before depart for home. Did you ever think that you would make it?” 

“No.” 

His short answer makes the crowd go silent. They’re hungry for more. 

“How does it feel then, being the Victor and knowing that you’ve won your District honor that it hasn’t seen for more than twenty Games?” 

Tavros is silent for a long time, trying to think of an answer. “I guess… I’m glad I could help my people,” he finally says in a hollow voice. There was really no other answer the Capitol would accept. He doubted they would appreciate, ‘ _I wish I had died in there. This is worse than death._ ’ 

He thinks about killing himself. On the train. In the station. When he sees his new home in the Victor Village, where his only neighbor is a middle aged woman with dark skin and eyes that belong to a person three times her age. He wants more than anything to go back, to make sure that he died, so that people would stop asking if he was proud of himself. 

One night, not long after he’s returned home to District Eleven, Tavros walks into the town and to his old home. He lived in a stable that belonged to another family, and their lights were off. The small barn was quiet, and Tavros pushed inside. 

It was empty. There were no baby animals to be seen, no hay, no grain. Just a few smears of blood on the floor and the smell of decay that almost made him believe he was back in the arena again. 

Tavros fell to the floor and wept into the dirt until he no longer recognized the sounds of his own crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After far too long of time, this fic is finally FINISHED. Thank you so, so much for all of the support, the kudos, the comments, and the bookmarks. I really hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! (Let's be real, I do love some terrible deaths)


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